


Ashes

by Biggersteinkins



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Clearly Rated Explicit for a Reason, Eventual Smut, Eventual smut will be shameless, First Time, How many tags do you really need?, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot Twists, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spoilers for DLC, spoilers for Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggersteinkins/pseuds/Biggersteinkins
Summary: And if tomorrow it’s all over, at least we had it for a moment…Madds knows he can’t take on this task alone, he needs a companion for a journey which is becoming progressively more daunting. MacCready has demons of his own to chase. When everything has been lost, can anything be salvaged from the destruction? (Mr. Biggers clearly cannot write summaries)





	1. Prologue: Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta admit, this is my first publicly posted fanfiction. I adore our little MacNugget and want nothing but happiness for him and the Sole Survivor. A lot of this is based off of my experience playing through the main mission of FO4, with some fleshing out and added twists and turns. Enjoy!
> 
> *Thanks to 'Florence and the Machine' for the summary intro.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready overnight in an abandoned shack between jobs, late night musings abound.

The darkness pushed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. He could taste the earthy flavor of long undisturbed dust rising up while he scrambled to his feet. The unmistakable rasp and groans of ferals echoed off of the soiled walls in the seemingly abandoned metro station. How had they gotten the drop on them? He should have heard them coming, but he had been so exhausted from travel, now it was too late…much too late. For a moment the world seemed to move in slow motion, his body reacting reflexively in an act of primal self-preservation, fingers digging into the shoulder of the young child in his arms. The crunch of debris whispering under foot as he turned on his heel and ran into the darkness, away from the high-pitched screams, away from the metallic scent now saturating the damp air, away from her.

A single red ember glowed bright in the confines of the moonlit shack. Robert Joseph MacCready pulled the cigarette from his lips, exhaling a ragged puff of smoke towards the empty space he stared unblinkingly into, replaying a familiar scene in his mind.

“Hey, my turn.” A hand touched lightly on MacCready’s shoulder and he jolted, flicking the burning stump of rolled paper to the floor. “S’been four hours already?” MacCready mumbled, running a weary hand over his face and crushing the cigarette beneath the toe of his boot.

“Actually…” The unnatural green glow of the pip-boy strapped to the second mans arm illuminated the room briefly. “Closer to five, sorry about that.” He replied almost sheepishly, switching the device off. The man, known as Madds, had waltzed into the city of Goodneighbor and coincidentally into MacCready’s life several weeks prior. He was looking for a hired gun and MacCready needed the caps. It wasn’t until they were well on their way across the Commonwealth that he had learned a little more about the dark-haired stranger. Madds was a vault dweller, he described over the flickering light of a cooking fire. When the bombs fell he was ‘frozen’ in some kind of experiment, meaning he was actually well-over 200 years old, despite appearing closer to that of someone in their early 30’s. He went on to explain how he was seeking his son, Shaun. An infant who had been stolen while they were in the confines of the vault. MacCready had heard rumors, ‘a man out of time’ they called him, drifters recounting fantastical tales over beer and liquor of this ‘Minute Man’, a General, a do-gooder roaming the Commonwealth building settlements and fighting raiders.

“Yeah well, try not to make it a habit.” The mercenary grunted, standing up from the overturned bucket he had been straddling for the better part of the evening. His muscles singing when he collapsed fully clothed onto the dingy mattress occupying the back corner of the room. He traced his fingers over the stock of the rifle carefully placed within reach before finally pulling his olive colored cap down over his eyes. With a stifled yawn, he let sleep claim him.

Madds watched the sun rise on the apocalyptic wasteland through a splintered hole in the wall. So much had changed, and at times this still seemed like a terrible dream, one he should wake up from at any moment. But he had a clear mission; he needed to find his son. Too much time had passed between suddenly waking up in the frigid cryosleep pod deep underground and now, he flexed his fingers, trying to push down thoughts of what the monsters who murdered Nora might be doing with his son. A loud snore interrupted his thoughts and he quirked an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Despite the merc’s no nonsense demeaner, Madds was appreciative of the company. Having another set of eyes was practically a necessity when outside the walls of the cities dotted across the ravaged landscape. He picked up a worn captain’s hat from the floor and placed it onto his head, successfully hiding the mussed black hair, before rising slowly to his feet.


	2. Walk into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Another settlement is in need of your help." Detours occur after a lead on Kellogg is received. Shenanigans ensue.

It had been three days at least since they had met with the synth detective in Diamond City, his name was Valentine, if MacCready remembered correctly. It was easy to lose track of time out here, he thought, taking a bite of leathery mirelurk jerky while following a few steps behind Madds. He had performed countless jobs, first with the gunners and now as a mercenary, but he had never been hired for anything this involved before. Guard duty here, shoot this guy over there, always straightforward if not short and sweet. The synth had given them a lead on a man named Kellogg, the last guy seen in the company of the missing boy. Rumor had it he was holed up in Fort Hagen, a secure military base located near the Western edge of the Commonwealth. However, like most of their treks across the countryside, they had been side tracked by yet another job. Always one more settlement in need of help.

“Hey,” said Madds cheerfully. “Your thoughts?”

“Fu--freaking watch it!” MacCready snapped, stopping suddenly in his tracks to keep from crashing into the older man.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“I think we make a pretty good team, boss…” He paused, studying the older man for a moment. “But, you ever consider delegating some of these settlement issues to say… _other_ Minute Men?”

“Aw c’mon, Mac.” Madds chuckled, “They need our help. Plus…” he gave a playful wink, “it’s not like you’re being forced to do this for free.”

MacCready snorted, he would love to see someone try to force him to do anything.

The request had _seemed_ simple enough; retrieve a stolen sword from some raiders hiding out in an old ironworks building. But routine could go off the rails quickly if you weren’t careful and this was turning into one of those occasions.

Just a runaway son and a swiped family heirloom. Toss in a few raiders, plus a creepy old factory, and it should have been just another day in the Commonwealth. MacCready grimaced, crouching behind a large piece of machinery. The fire from the flamer carrying raider streaming relentlessly against it.

“They’ve got flamethrowers, Mac!”

MacCready rolled his eyes, the metal against his back becoming uncomfortably warm. “No shi--ugh, you’re kidding me!?” He shouted back.

An explosion rang out and he felt the machine behind him shift, the blast knocking him forward onto his knees.

He couldn’t hear, everything was ringing as he leaned cautiously from behind the cover, peering through smoke and dust. There appeared to be a pair of legs protruding haphazardly out of a pile of rubble. Rifle raised he cautiously approached the mangled limbs only to realize it was exactly what it looked like and nothing more. Where the rest of the raider was he couldn’t say.

Madds staggered into view, a bright trail of blood running down the length of his face, the faded blue coat now visibly singed. He was speaking, but to MacCready he may as well have been yelling underwater. In frustration he pointed at his ear. “I said I can’t hear you!”

 _“Follow me.”_ Madds mouthed in an exaggerated fashion, before turning and heading up a flight of damaged metal stairs. The limp in his step suggested he had been wounded, and MacCready nervously thought back to how many stimpaks they had on hand. _Definitely should have brought more._ His trigger finger tightened.

The ringing in his ears was beginning to fade as he roughly dug a knuckle against the side of his head. They had stopped in the remains of some kind of workshop littered with all manner of scrap, much to MacCready’s irritation.

“I hope you don’t expect me to carry all that junk back.” MacCready grumbled, spying Madds swiping a dented can off of a table. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, the man was like a hoarder. He would take anything that wasn’t nailed down. Although now that MacCready thought of it, even the crap nailed down wasn’t terribly safe.

“Stop your bitching Mac, I’ll carry it back. Probably too heavy for you anyways.” Madds added nonchalantly, green eyes cut over slyly while he made fast work of securing his pack shut. Comparatively speaking, he was bigger than MacCready, more muscle and less bone, though the smaller man’s confident attitude more than made up for his lack of bulk.

“Whatever you say, boss.” MacCready stated blandly, electing not to take the bait.

“You okay?”

A large dark stain was beginning to spread across Madds knee, adding to his bloodied and disheveled appearance. “Huh? Oh, not all of this is mine.” He replied a little too brightly, a film of red staining his teeth; likely due to a badly split lip. Wincing he eased himself to the floor.

“What the hell happened back there?” MacCready demanded with a scowl.

“You were pinned and I couldn’t risk getting roasted.” He shrugged, slipping the stained leather boot off. “So…I threw a grenade.” His fingers gingerly pulled up the leg of his pants, careful to peel the offending fabric off his damaged kneecap. MacCready made a noise in the back of his throat and swore he caught a glimpse of bone.

“H..hang on.” He said, fumbling through the inner pockets of his duster before dropping to his knees next to Madds. “Maybe next time you might try taking cover, instead of –you know- just standing around getting shot.” MacCready scoffed, flipping the cap off a stimpak now in hand.

“I wasn’t the one stu – fuck!” Madds hissed, eyeing the needle being pulled from his thigh.

“Whoops.”

For a moment they remained that way, neither speaking while they caught their breath. In the distance the sounds of angry voices shouting to one another reverberated off of metal. _More raiders, probably the next level up_ , MacCready reflected, _imagine our luck…freaking flamethrowers, man_. He vaguely registered Madds standing up and wandering behind him somewhere, he could hear cabinets opening and closing.

“Just what we need. Another one of those...toasters” MacCready muttered, rising to his feet.

“It’s a hot plate, Mac." 

He waved dismissively, unslinging his rifle. “You about ready?”

~*~

Blood pattered down onto the metal platform in thick fat drops, landing squarely between MacCready’s knees. They had burst through the heavy blue doors - guns blazing - directly into an ambush. The raider whose elbow had connected with his face now stood behind him, a flamer pointed threateningly at his back. As luck would have it they hadn’t just found the farmer’s missing son and sword, no from the look of things they had just crashed a gang initiation. _Keep it together, I just need to bide my time…look for an opening_ , MacCready’s hands tightend around the rifle which rested across his thighs.

“Listen Jake, you don’t have to do this.”

 _He really makes cool and collected look easy_. MacCready reflected, watching as Madds tried to talk the young man down. Clearly, they weren’t the only ones stuck in a bit of a predicament. A random settler was bound and kneeling in front of a large vat of molten metal, while the ‘leader’ of this group of assholes was goading Jake, the farmer’s son, into killing him.

“Just walk away, son.”

The lead raider was talking again, his rusted partial suit of power armor clanking awkwardly when he shifted on the overhanging grate, his position above the ominously bubbling vat and lack of long range weapon was not lost MacCready.

“Haha...I bet caps you’re sweating your balls off in that thing.”

“What’d you say ya little shit?!” The raider behind him snarled, the flamer faltering briefly in his grasp.

MacCready’s body tensed, every nerve on edge. “I said…I bet caps he’s sweatin’ his balls off in that fu--freaking getup!” He screamed, pulling his feet under him and pivoting around. The rifle collided with the raiders leg’s knocking him to the floor and in an instant MacCready was on him, driving the butt of his gun repeatedly into the raiders face until nothing recognizably human was left.

Panting heavily, he turned in time to see the beam from a laser rifle pierce through the head of the lead raider. _Probably should have considered a helmet_. With an expression resembling shock, the armor-clad corpse pitched forward into the molten forge with a wet thud. Trembling, MacCready dropped the rifle to the floor and planted his hands on his knees to steady himself. His eyes met Madds’s from across the room, staring into them for a beat too long.

MacCready gave a lopsided smile before looking away, it only lasted a few seconds but the exchange had felt strangely intimate and he quickly busied himself with searching the dead raider for caps. Probably just a combination of adrenaline and exhaustion at this point, MacCready thought as he pocketed a tin of mentats to barter with later. 

~*~

Abraham Finch was certainly appreciative of their assistance, going so far as to offer them a meal and put them up for the night in his home when they finally stumbled back, gore covered but victorious.

MacCready let out a sigh and reclined back onto the threadbare mattress, the familiar duster and green jacket now absent his lean frame and instead draped unceremoniously over the back of a chair along with the bands of ammunition normally cinched around his thigh.

“You know I think I can see why you enjoy doing this, helping these people.” He stated, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Madds was sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, taking stock of their ammunition and supplies by light of candle. “It’s the least we can do. We can’t just sit back and let them suffer.” Picking up a bag from the floor he gave it a shake, the metal caps inside rattling noisily in the quiet room. “Plus, more caps are never a bad thing.”

“Really had me with that serious act for a minute, boss.” MacCready chuckled, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“Do you always sleep with your hat on?” Madds asked, slipping off his boots and relishing the feeling of safety, whatever that meant in this new world, enough so that he could dress down for the night.

“I like the hat. I feel funny without it.”

“Uh-huh.” Madds shrugged out of the heavy minuteman coat, letting it stay where it fell to the floor. “I suppose at this point it’s almost a signature look.” He teased, flashing a grin at MacCready’s puzzled expression. “Ah, sorry. Just a pre-war phrase.”

MacCready found himself indulging in that smooth smile, the way those green eyes held his for much too long again, triggering a long-forgotten flutter in his gut. “You’re showing your age, old man.” He joked, scratching the back of his neck. What was up with him tonight? How long had it been since anyone had genuinely paid him any attention? _Get spoken to cheerfully one time and suddenly you’re a nervous teenager again_.

“How old are you anyway?” Madds asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“Twenty-two.”

Madds whistled sharply and shook his head. “Just a kid.” He took off his hat and laid it on the floor, running his fingers through his sweaty black hair, carding it up into limp spikes.  
MacCready frowned, reaching into his nearby duster to snag a cigarette “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No offense meant, Mac. Things are just _different_ now. You should be bagging groceries or…or going to college.” He balled the heavy coat up before sliding down to the floor and resting his head on the makeshift pillow. “Not working as post-apocalyptic merc.” He murmured before snuffing out the candle.

The little ember blazed brightly as silence settled on the room. Maybe later MacCready would ask what exactly _bagging groceries_ would have entailed, but for now he welcomed the rest. These settlements really needed to learn how to defend themselves. The glowing red point bobbed briefly in the darkness before being stubbed out on the nearby chair. Tilting his hat down he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to find him.


	3. Easy Sunday Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready take a short break out on the farm.

Sunlight filtered in through a dirty pane of glass, settling warm and heavy on the small room. Soon MacCready stirred, lazily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Madds?” he croaked, noting how dry and cracked his throat felt. Likely a result of all the smoke and dust from the night before. Madds’s breathing was deep and even despite the hour, and MacCready was surprised he hadn’t woken up yet. By now he would normally be awake; rustling around, packing gear, and ushering them back onto the road.

With a shaky stretch he rolled over and sat up, placing his feet on the rough wooden floor. A beat passed, MacCready’s stomach doing a little flipflop while he sat rooted at the edge of the bed. He couldn’t help but watch Madds, his face was smooth, lacking its typical intensity while at rest, and sleek strands of black hair were haphazardly spilled across his olive skin. He had no right to look this good.

Attempting to swallow the lump in his throat brought him back to the present. What would Lucy think? _Hell_ , what about Duncan? Was he really so starved for human contact? With a sigh, he stood up. He definitely would not have pinned this for his future; Mac the merc, roaming the Commonwealth and unable to keep his eyes off of his boss, this… _guy_. Despite the guilt washing over him, he couldn’t deny that he was lonely. Had it really been five years?

The weather was already muggy and hot when he stepped outside, having crossed the room seemingly without waking Madds. While MacCready suspected he’d likely catch shit for leaving him to sleep away the morning like this, he needed to clear his head and find something to drink.

From the doorway he could see the farmer and his family bustling around in a field, hard at work tending to tatos and mutfruit. MacCready watched while they scratched out a living, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the harsh light. Lucy had hated mutfruit, she always said they were too sweet. The memory of her face scrunched up in overexaggerated displeasure brought a sad smile to his lips, he still remembered the way she had punched him lightly in the arm for laughing. How could he help himself? Her teeth were stained purple after that for days.

The clatter of metal startled him when he kicked over an empty metal bucket on his way down the steps of the makeshift porch. Silently cursing under his breath, he stooped down and picked it up, finding a cloth tucked inside. _I guess this is a hint to wash up?_ He wondered, touching the crust of blood still caught in his mustache. Shrugging he took the bucket with him, he was sure he had seen a water pump around back the day before.

The water from the handwell had been cool and refreshing to drink, but it still drew a shiver from him when he dumped a fresh bucket over his head.

“There you are.”

MacCready ran a slick hand across his face, clearing the water from his eyes. “Didn’t think you were ever gonna wake up.” He explained, suddenly thankful he had chosen to leave his underwear on.

“Guess all that fun last night took a toll on me.” Madds said casually and hooked his fingers under the edge of his stained white shirt, pulling it up and over his head before tossing it down onto the grass, with MacCready’s clothes.

“I didn’t know it was a _bring your own bucket thing_ ,” stated Madds with a grin, “guess we can share.”

MacCready responded to this by quickly emptying water over himself once more. “Ah, n…no need,” he chattered, goosebumps spreading over his arms, “I was just finishing up.” He let the pail drop to the now-soggy ground with a squish, hoping his tone didn’t reveal how flustered he actually felt. There’s no way Madds was…flirting with him, was there? Probably not, more than likely he was misreading the situation and entirely about to make an ass of himself.

He pushed the thought aside and tossed the wet rag into Madds’s hands, careful to maintain his gaze directed at the other man’s stubbled chin when he walked past.

“Suit yourself, I left some cram and purified water out by the way.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Madds snorted. “No need to thank me, Mac. Its only warm water and old canned meat.”

“My favorite.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to stock up on it,” Madds balanced on one foot, wobbling in place while he pulled his pants off. “maybe make you a gift basket, you know? For your birthday or something.”

Rolling his eyes, MacCready bent down to scoop his clothes up from the patchy grass. “You’ll be waitin’ awhile to hand that out.”

“Missed it for this year, huh?” Madds asked, pumping more water into the bucket at his feet.

“I don’t know when my birthday is,” MacCready said dryly. “I think it could be in the Spring, maybe?” He looked back over his shoulder, plunking the green cap onto his head. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Madds partially, or even fully nude; it was inevitable when travelling with someone for any length of time, and bunking down in tight quarters, that modesty over these sorts of activities had to be set aside. Still, he couldn’t help the warm feeling creeping over his face at the sight.

“Seriously? Why not?” Madds quirked his brow, dunking the badly stained rag back into the bucket. “How do you not…”

“I was raised in a place called Little Lamplight, remember?” MacCready interrupted, “I’m gonna go get changed, maybe eat that crap...I mean cram.”

“Sounds good, you’ll have to refresh my memory about this, uh, Lamplight place sometime though.”

But MacCready was already quickly making his way around to the entrance of the shack, ignoring the stares coming from the field when he hurried past. 

~*~

Breakfast was eaten and jokes about raiders only being able to _see_ them coming, not smell them, were made. The morning marched slowly into the afternoon before they eventually got started down the road. MacCready supposed the Finch’s were likely relieved to have full reign of their tiny home again, as well as to be free of the two wanderers, no matter how well-intentioned they might have been.

For what seemed like several hours, they walked along in relative silence, Madds occasionally breaking the monotony of it all by whistling to a song playing only in his head.

“Please tell me those aren’t your underwear.” Madds stated, giving MacCready an agonized look.

“So, what if they are?”

“I mean…but why are they tied to your pants?”

“They aren’t tied to anything,” MacCready said, pointing at the undergarment. “just tucked through my belt is all. I want ‘em to be dry by the time we stop for the night.”

Madds frowned. “Yeah, yeah I can see your logic.”

“You’re wearing yours wet and all, aren’t you?” MacCready laughed, “Oh man, I bet it’s like a steam trap in there.” he clutched his stomach, stumbling briefly as he walked.

“I hope you bust your bony ass – or better yet, that you get chaffed raw before sundown.” Madds pulled discreetly at the front of his pants, taking a long stride to loosen the damp fabric.

“Hey,” MacCready said, barely keeping a straight face. “At least I won’t be the one with the pruney dick.” He dodged a small dirt clod aimed at his head, laughing harder than he could remember having laughed in a long while.

In the distance a yellow flash warbled and crashed in the sky, eliciting a crackling static from the pip-boy strapped to Madds’s arm. “Shit.” He mumbled, staring out at the approaching storm.

“You, uh, got any Rad-X?” MacCready asked, wiping away the remaining tears from his earlier laughter.

“Yeah, I always keep a few.” He said, reaching absentmindedly to rummage through his pockets, the distorted crashing of the radstorm and popping from the pip-boy was beginning to set MacCready on edge.

A cold drop of rain struck MacCready on the back of the neck. “You think maybe we could try to find some cover?” He asked. _Or I guess we could wait until we grow two heads like everything else out here_ , he thought.

The lighting flashed again, revealing a sickly yellow haze now positioned on all sides. They would have to continue through the storm at this point.

“Here,” Madds pressed a tablet into MacCready’s hand. “Take it, we need to get moving. Keep your eyes peeled for any place worth sheltering in.” He started off back down the road. “Worst case we ride it out in an old car.”

MacCready glumly swallowed the bitter pill, feeling the rain begin to soak through his duster. _So much for drying out my underwear_.

They trudged on through the mud and rain, at one-point slinking past the ruins of a home, now guarded by one very large deathclaw. Although, as more time went by, MacCready started to wish they had given killing the deathclaw a whirl. He had begun to feel nauseous, in spite of the Rad-X from earlier, and retched fruitlessly next to a retaining wall while Madds kept watch.

“There’s an old gas station up ahead.” Madds pointed out, dragging him along by his sleeve. “I don’t care what’s living in there currently, that's where we’re staying tonight.”

MacCready nodded weakly, unslinging his rifle. “Bloatflys,” he said, taking aim and firing a round into the fat swollen body of the mutated insect. It dropped to the ground near a rusted gas pump with a thud.

“It’s what’s for dinner.” Madds chimed, hurrying over to secure the entrance before returning to the carcass.

Watching Madds butcher the glistening insect was the final straw and MacCready stepped quickly behind a cigarette dispenser to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter, work has been more 'exciting' than usual this week and demanded much of my attention. There's a longer one coming up!


	4. They came at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready take shelter from a radstorm. Old acquaintances stop by, much to Mac's surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some insinuated dialog that could be considered a trigger to certain people, please keep that in mind.

Shelves had been piled against the doors leading into the gas station, and a fire was crackling in the corner. Luckily the old facility had plenty of paper and bits of wood laying around to keep the flames fed. Madds wrangled a beat-up metal pan from his backpack and set about cooking the bloatfly meat, while MacCready sat quietly nearby.

“You really don’t look so hot, Mac.” Madds told him, dropping another chunk of meat into the pan.

MacCready gave a small jerk of his head and a grunt, swallowing back the acidic taste threatening to rise up in his throat. He hoped that if he didn’t speak, or open his mouth, or think too hard, then maybe he could keep the remaining contents of his stomach where they were.

The occasional crack of thunder could still be heard outside, cutting through the constant drum of rain on the dilapidated roof. Madds looked up in response to a drop of water splashing onto his hat. “I keep wondering when I will get used to all of this,” he said softly, “I mean, who’s to say I didn’t swing in here for a newspaper and a fill up, on our way to coast last year,” The walls shook in response to the storm, punctuating the sentence.

“I guess it wasn’t last year though, not really.” Madds made a noise, something that could be mistaken for a clipped laugh. MacCready knew it for what it was, a wounded sound. “Listen to me, sitting over here reminiscing like some kind of old man,” he roughly sat the pan of meat down on the floor with a clank, “You think eating something would help?”

MacCready groaned audibly at the thought of trying to eat _anything_ , much less greasy bloatfly chunks. “No…no food.” He managed, before scrambling to grab the bucket he had placed nearby.

Madds began to search through his pack. “I’m no doctor, but I think you might have radiation sickness.”

“N..no sh--” MacCready swallowed thickly, “Yeah, probably.” He mumbled, slumping back into the counter.

“Speaking of doctors, I think we ought to try and get you to one,” Madds pulled a faded magazine from his pack, and set to work wrapping the cooled meat with the pages. “I’ll use the pip-boy to find the nearest settlement,” he said more to himself, already stowing the packaged rations and retrieving a glass bottle. “Just going to take another Rad-X and we’ll get ou…”

The sound of muffled laughter echoed from behind a barricaded door, followed by a loud crash. The shelf propped against the door shuddered. _“Smells like somebody went and cooked us dinner!”_

Before MacCready could react, he found himself being drug backwards across the floor, and around behind the counter. The shelf rocked noisily in place from the force of the blows, it was clear the door wouldn’t hold much longer. He barely took notice of Madds removing things from the backpack, as he rose up to his knees, propping his rifle next to a dented cash register. _Why is it so cold in here?_ He shivered violently, _no…not now..._ he ground his chattering teeth, tightening his grip on the stock in an attempt to steady himself. The electronic hum of the safety being thumbed off of Madds laser rifle came seconds prior to the final crack of the shelf.

Gunfire; bullets, and smoky blasts from energy weapons, streaked back and forth across the cramped room. Whoever they were, they were well equipped. One well-placed blast sent the register next to MacCready’s head clattering to the floor, in an instant he had dropped back behind the counter for cover.

He was shaking again and fought to load another round into the rifle. The gunfire had died down, replaced with shouting and the sounds of a struggle. MacCready looked up, Madds was no longer behind the counter with him.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” One of the intruders asked.

“I know you’re not alone in here!”

MacCready knew that voice, he had heard it before, in another life. Cautiously he slid up, peering out over the wrecked room. _Gunners…_ his stomach dropped. There were five, that he could see, and they had Madds. The bullet slid home, clicking into the chamber. In one swift motion he took aim at the lead Gunner's head, and dry heaved, misfiring way off target.

 _Six, there are six Gunners_. The unbidden thought came to him as he was yanked roughly over the counter and tossed onto the floor.

“Robert Joseph MacCready, is that _really_ your sorry ass over there?” A red-haired gunner asked with a chuckle.

“Hey Otto.”

“Oho, such a pity. Here I was thinkin you’d wised up and gotten the fuck outta here.” Otto clicked his tongue in disapproval, moving to stand over the young mercenary laying sprawled, and shaking, in the floor.

MacCready remained down, focusing on the stained linoleum inches from his face. “Sorry t..to disappoint.”

He felt the Gunners fingers twist in his hair, and yelped in pain, reaching feebly to grasp Otto’s wrist.

Otto squatted down, lifting MacCready up by his hair to face him. “Shh, now. Save your strength,” He smiled cruelly, “Ya know, we asked you nicely to leave. This is our territory afterall. Clearly you need more…persuasion.”

The Gunner lackies laughed. “Look at him shakin!”

“Listen, I hired him and he’s sick, just…”

“Shut the fuck up!” MacCready watched one of the Gunners drive the stock of his gun into Madds’s gut, sending him down to his knees. His scalp was on fire and he increased his hold on Otto’s wrist. This was bad, there was no way they were getting out of this. _I’m so sorry Duncan…_

“Eyes over here ya little trash rat,” Otto gripped MacCready’s chin, snickering at the panicked look he received when his thumb brushed slowly at the edge of MacCready’s lips. “You don’t have a very pretty mouth, but I feel like we can figure somethin’ out.”

Madds was yelling something, but the room was beginning to fade in and out.

“We don’t have to be back to base for another two days,” Otto whispered, “I can make this last…”

MacCready heard a choked sob, did it come from him? Then the world went black.

~*~

His dreams were unpleasant and fitful. Images of Lucy screaming, reaching out to him, but he just couldn’t make his legs work. So many withered hands tearing her apart, while she calmly asked him ‘why?’ He looked down to see Duncan, pale and dead, in his arms. When the hands reached for him he didn’t fight back.

MacCready awoke on his back, bleary eyed and with a pounding head. It was dark, and he found he couldn’t move his arms, was he tied down? The memories of Otto and the Gunners came flooding back and he began to flail, kicking his legs and pulling frantically at the restraints.

“Hey, hey! Mac, its me! Stop, you’re okay. I promise, hey – ow!” Madds’s soothing voice spoke to him from the darkness, and he felt his foot connect with something solid. “Shit man, you kick like a brahmin.”

His eyes were wide but he couldn’t see a thing. “Where are we Madds…” MacCready asked softly, despite being afraid of the answer.

He felt a hand rest gently on his knee. “We are on a bus,” the hand squeezed in reassurance, “And the Gunners are probably back in that gas station, I suspect.”

“Okay…” MacCready spoke slowly, “Then why am I tied down?”

“Because I couldn’t risk you tearing the IV out, or getting my face scratched to shit again.”

MacCready flexed his arm, noticing the mild discomfort radiating from the inside of his elbow for the first time. “RadAway?”

“Yeah, there was no way I could get you to a doctor fast enough. You were touch and go for a bit...” Madds trailed off.

“H..how did we,” MacCready coughed, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

“Whoops, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, “I’d make a pretty crappy nurse, not to mention I wouldn’t fit in those dresses. Here’s some water.” Madds’s cheerful tone was back, his hand cradling the back of MacCready’s head, gently pressing the box of water to the younger man’s lips.

MacCready turned his head to the side when he was finished, taking a moment just to breathe. “I really didn’t think we were gonna get out of that one, boss,” His eyes were beginning to adjust to the lack of lighting, and he could see Madds kneeling next to his side, his fingers working to undo the bindings.

“Going to be honest with you, Mac. I didn’t think we were going to either. At least not without…” He paused, rubbing MacCready’s wrist absentmindedly where one piece of material had been tied. “At least not with so little damage.”

MacCready didn’t want to ask what had happened to him, _after_ he had blacked out. Whatever was done, he thought, must have been enough that Otto let them go. He laid unmoving and silent, his face burning at the thought. How would he ever face Madds again after something like... _that?_ He felt nauseous again, despite the RadAway.

As if he could sense the other man’s discomfort, Madds began again. “You, ah, I don’t know how aware you were of what all was happening. Especially around the time when you passed out. But, I just want you to know, those cowards didn’t do anything to you.”

MacCready swallowed hard in response.

“Maybe it worked in our favor that you conked out, once it was obvious you couldn’t be brought back out of it, they lost interest. Started talking about killing us and taking all the gear.” He helped MacCready sit up, mindful of the needle and line still duct taped to his arm.

“Then, after I bit one them on the thigh, and shot another, well I guess they thought it would be more rewarding to just toss us out into the storm.”

MacCready couldn’t help but smile. “You _bit_ one of them?”

“What can I say? I’m a biter.”

“Good to know.”

Madds laughed. “Anyway, lucky for you I stashed some RadAway, Stimpaks, and what-not in my coat before they got through the door. They took the pack, obviously,”

The light from the pip-boy lit up the space around them, and Madds directed the beam up at the bag of fluid swaying from a coat hanger above their heads. “Also, lucky for you that I have been practicing finding a vein, in case of an emergency. I’ve managed to hit it on myself a few times, but you are my first patient.”

“So lucky,” MacCready replied sarcastically, “Uh, so how long does it need to stay in?”

“I’d recommend finishing off the bag, probably another hour or two at this rate.”

MacCready shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Don’t suppose this thing can travel out of the bus, can it? I’ve really gotta take a leak.”

“The last thing we need is for you to fall and rip this needle out of your arm,” Madds got up and scrounged around among discarded suitcases and bags, the personal belongings of an era long gone. “Here, you can piss in a bottle.”

The empty bottle exchanged hands, and MacCready sat with it for a moment, relieved when Madds wandered to different part of the bus to noisily loot the luggage bins. 

~*~

“Hey, I got your favorite!”

MacCready gave Madds a dark look. “It had better not be more cram.”

“…it…yeah it is, it’s more cram.”

MacCready groaned.

Two days passed before MacCready felt well enough to travel again. The day before, Madds had gone to scout, managing to kill a raider with nothing more than a hunk of concrete; this had at least provided them with a handful of caps, a pistol, and something to eat.

Madds promised that if they could get to his town, this _Sanctuary_ , they would be able to restock. He explained that he kept the bulk of his supplies; caps, weapons, medicine, and everything else, at this settlement.

“Mac, when are you going to tell me how that Otto character knew you?” Madds asked.

Anxiety bloomed to the surface, and he stared down at the ground. “It’s a long story.” MacCready replied, unsure of how much to share or what Madds would think of him. The road stretched endlessly along and he kicked a crumbling piece of asphalt out of his path as he went.

“We’ve got time.” Madds coaxed gently.

MacCready chewed awkwardly on his lip. “You remember those Gunners, the ones I was meeting with when you showed up to talk about a job, back in Goodneighbor?”

“Yeah, there were two of them.”

“Right, Whitlock and Barnes. Well, Otto was the one guy, Whitlock’s, cousin,” With a sigh MacCready continued. “When I first came to the Commonwealth I…enlisted with the Gunners. The pay was decent, and I’m a great shot.” He felt himself puffing out his chest, ever so slightly, at this comment.

Madds smiled.

“So, I spent a year working with them, but,”

“Uh-huh?”

“I may not be perfect, hell I’ve done some terrible things…but those guys, they’re animals. No morals,” MacCready shook his head. “I’ve watched ‘em gun down women and kids, and even worse…” he thought back to the night in the gas station, to Otto’s sadistic expression, and shuddered.

“Yeah, so I left. They didn’t like that, and made it their goal in life to make it difficult for me to get any business as a merc. I was hoping that maybe if I took this job with you, I could make enough caps to pay them off, get ‘em off my back. You know?”

Madds slowed down to walk alongside MacCready. “Do you think they will actually stop if you pay them?”

In his heart he knew they wouldn’t stop, but he would rather die trying to scrounge money to get that cure for Duncan, than to go home empty handed. “No, they won’t stop.”

MacCready paused mid-step when Madds put a hand on his shoulder. That intense look was back, and it caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand at attention.

“Mac, we’re going to kill them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there, definitely trying to maintain a steady stream of updates!


	5. Sanctuary and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready visit Sanctuary to restock and recharge before going to deal with the Gunners. Mac can't decide how to come to terms with his feelings towards Madds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet, can't promise they will all be this length but I'll try! Also, it can be a little more dialog heavy than others, so that's a thing.

Multiple homes were visible on the hill which rose up in front of them, and judging from the increased spring in Madds’s step, MacCready could only assume this must be Sanctuary. Before he could ask, a sharp whistle rang out, answered in kind by one from Madds.

A cheerful looking man wearing a cowboy hat strode briskly into view, “Hello!”

“Hey, Preston!” Madds called back, removing his hat to wave it theatrically at the other man.

MacCready hung back slightly, watching the two men embrace. All this familiarity made him uncomfortable. You could bet your last cap that nobody willingly hugged in Goodneighbor, hell nobody ran around hugging in Little Lamplight, or the Capital for that matter.

“Preston, I want you to meet Mr. RJ MacCready. He’s been travelling with me.”

MacCready nearly spit out the cigarette he was pulling a drag on, no one had ever called him mister before. The closest would have been during his time as mayor.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. MacCready.”

He suddenly found himself shaking hands with the cowboy. “Uh, yeah. Same, thanks.”

“Any news on your son?” Preston asked, turning to walk with Madds into town.

“Yes actually, we are heading to an old military outpost. A place called Fort Hagen, we’re looking for a man named Kellogg.”

“Hmm, name doesn’t ring any bells but…”

The conversation ahead of him faded into the background, as they followed the winding path through the town. The settlement had been built around a pre-war subdivision. Drawing from images he had seen in comics, MacCready could envision what it might have looked like before the bombs fell. Even still, the settlement was picturesque to current standards. Many of the homes had been repaired, the street was wide and clear of debris. Multiple gardens were sprinkled throughout, and he could see settlers were hauling water from large aquifers to pour over the crops. All around people were bustling about.

It was rare for an agricultural town like this to thrive, everyone seemed so happy.

“Watch it!” MacCready grumbled, stepping aside quickly as a dog rushed past him, tail wagging, with a child following closely behind.

Madds grinned, reaching down to scratch the animals furry head. “Hey, Dogmeat.”

With a bark, the dog was off again. “Hello, Madds!” the young girl shouted breathlessly, before chasing back after the dog.

“Bye, Mazie!” Madds turned back to face him, a light laugh fading to a contented sigh. “So, this is Sanctuary.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not impressed.” MacCready gave him one of his lopsided grins, ever mindful of his less than stellar smile.

“I’m gonna let ya’ll get settled in, I’ll touch base with you later on.” Preston remarked, giving them both a nod. MacCready watched him head in the direction of a garage turned workshop.

“Thanks, Preston.”

An incredibly old woman, sitting in an out of place chair, drew MacCready’s gaze; for a second he stood in the street just looking at her. He had the strangest feeling that she was looking back at him as well, despite her visibly clouded eyes.

“That’s Mama Murphy,” Madds told him, snapping him back. “She has this…ability, for lack of a better word. You know, like a psychic.”

“A what?”

“A psychic? Sometimes she can see the future.”

MacCready snorted, cutting his eyes to study Madds’s expression. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Dead serious. She’s an interesting character, that’s for sure.”

Nodding slowly, MacCready glanced back at the unusual woman, unsure of what to think.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Madds interrupted again, “but I’m about ready to sit down and eat something. Why don’t we head over to my place, we can eat, change into…fresher clothes?”

“You had me at ‘ _eat something_ ’.” 

~*~

They sat opposite one another in the renovated living room, swapping stories from their youth. Madds couldn’t envision MacCready as the mayor of anything, much less a bunch of cave dwelling children. While MacCready was having a hard time wrapping his head around Madds’s descriptions of pre-war entertainment, particularly drive-in movie theaters.

“You just…drive up, in one of those cars? Or a bus?” MacCready scoffed, spooning more stew into his mouth.

Madds leaned forward in the overstuffed chair, “Uh huh, I mean…maybe not a bus. But you just drive up and park, then the movie projects onto a screen,” he gestured with his hands, “that’s bigger than this house. Whole thing’s like a giant moving comic.”

MacCready rolled his eyes. “You actually expect me to believe this?”

“Ah man, I really wish I could show you,” Madds said wistfully, “there’s so many things that I just took for granted. I guess they all seem pretty fantastical now.”

A silence fell across the room, while MacCready awkwardly fiddled with the bowl in his hands. Wracking his brain for something to add to the discussion.

“I mean, the idea of _not_ eating cram two out of three meals is rather hard to imagine.”

Madds laughed, flashing those perfect teeth. Everything about him seemed so out of place here, he was like a beautiful relic, some lost piece of technology; still shiny and new. The world hadn’t gotten to him quite yet.

“So, you promised me a change of clothes, that offer still on the table?” MacCready asked, holding Madds’s gaze. Had his eyes always been this green?

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

MacCready watched him leave the room, Madds’s tall form disappearing down a narrow hallway. _What would it be like to raise Duncan in a place like this?_ He wondered, getting up from the chair, his bowl now empty and forgotten on the floor. _He could have a real childhood, be able to just be a kid. No more roaming, no more uncertainty_.

The pair of faded blue jeans slapped into his face without warning, immediately followed by a fresh undershirt.

“Gotta be f’ing kidding me,” MacCready sighed, picking the clothes up from out of the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any extra hats on hand.”

MacCready’s hat had been left behind when they fled the gas station that night, and while he wanted to think it might turn up during their travels, he wasn’t hopeful.

“Eh, I’ll live. Hell, maybe I’ll even find one as fancy as yours someday…”

“If you’re lucky.” Madds gave him a wink, before stepping around him.

He could feel the color rising in his cheeks and Madds’s eyes following him down the hall.

“Second door to the right, you can crash there.”

MacCready gave a thumbs up, before ducking into the room. Why was he reacting this way? He shook his head, slipping off the stained duster. Since when did he go around gazing into people’s eyes, _men’s_ eyes? _Am I…oh god, am I gay?_ He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. The world was a different place now, people could love much more freely, but he couldn’t recall a time where he had even been interested in a man. While his upbringing never offered much in the instruction of romance, or intimate relationships for that matter, everyone knew how it _should_ go down.

“At least, we believed we did.” MacCready muttered aloud, thinking back to his brief and ardent courtship of Lucy. They had been each other’s firsts, _now we’re each other’s lasts_ , he thought bitterly. Lucy had been such a bright point in his life, and damnit he missed her. He couldn’t be attracted to a man, _this man_ , if for no other reason than it simply felt wrong, it was as if he were cheating on her.

MacCready stood in front of an old mirror, examining himself in the cracked reflection. _If you don’t like him like that, then why is he always on your mind?_

~*~

“M…Madds?”

MacCready sat up, struggling to make out Madds’s face in the dimly lit room. He felt the mattress dip down, a small gasp escaping him when the other man’s hand brushed across his cheek, calloused fingers trailing lightly over his skin.

“What the heck are you doing?” MacCready asked, reaching out to push him away, but Madds leaned in closer, smiling that smile, and his thoughts on the matter began to quickly derail. _Just let it happen…_

“I can make this last…” Madds purred before his tongue met the shell of MacCready’s ear.

Wrenching his head to the side, MacCready stared in wide-eyed horror when Otto’s harsh features took shape. He felt his stomach drop, “No…no…this isn’t…” The gunners’ hands were sliding up his thighs now, and he began to kick, back pedaling away. Everything was so dark, were they still in the gas station? The hands multiplied, tearing and seeking purchase at his flesh. The air tasted metallic and sharp, he could barely breathe, “You’re hurting me!” he heard himself scream, allowing the emaciated fingers of feral ghouls to crowd into his open mouth.

With a shriek MacCready shot up in bed, shaking and drenched in sweat. _Just a nightmare…one more stupid dream..._ he wrestled quickly out of the blankets, determined to put space between himself and the room. He soon found himself outside, still tugging on the beat-up duster while he crossed the street, a lit cigarette held firmly between his lips. Ever since Lucy had died he had been plagued with nightmares; watching someone literally be torn to pieces could do that to a person, he supposed.

 _So much for a good night’s rest…_ He let out a smoky breath, staring blearily back at the house. He had made his way to the workshop he had seen earlier.

“Hey, kid. Thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep.”

MacCready coughed, looking back over his shoulder at the elderly woman perched on her funny chair. He hadn’t noticed her sitting there when he wandered over. “Oh, yeah,” he shrugged, flicking the butt to the ground, “you’re ‘Mama…Murphy’, huh?”

“The one and only,” the shrunken woman rasped, “I know you, too. Seen ya before, and the journey you’re gonna to take.”

“Oh boy,” MacCready looked away, rolling his eyes. “That’s right, you can see the future or something.” With an inward groan, he turned to face her. Maybe he could just feign exhaustion and escape whatever conversation was about to occur.

The old woman folded her hands in her lap, fixing a pair of milky blue eyes unblinkingly on him. “I sometimes forget folks ain’t used to weird things, like the sight,” she smiled thinly, “and I know from where you’re standing I look crazy. But it’s the chems, kid. They give Ole Mama Murphy visions of what was, and what will be. And even what is, right now.”

There we go, its chems. The old girl’s an addict. “Crazy?” he had to stop himself from snickering, “Nah, I believe you. I’m sure you get loads of visions after popping a few mentats.”

To his surprise, Mama Murphy cracked a wide smile. “I like ya, kid. Real honest, no pandering to an old lady’s foolishness.”

“Thanks,” He ran a tired hand over his face. “Listen, I’d love to stand out here talkin to you about the future, but I need to –”

“So much loss is shared between you,” the old woman interjected, her voice taking on a monotone quality. “You ain’t alone. But you’re gonna have to decide which way to go…” she squinted her eyes as though she were trying to see something at a distance. “Be strong, kid. You’re ‘bout to be part of something bigger than we can all imagine.”

With a sigh, Mama Murphy slumped down in her chair, appearing to have suddenly fallen asleep. “Uh, lady?” MacCready spoke loudly, glancing with uncertainty back to the dark street. _Does she just sleep out here? Fu…freaks sake, she better not be dead_. “Mama Murphy?” The frail woman responded with a snore, and he shook his head in bewilderment.

“Did I catch the last train to crazytown, or what?” MacCready whispered to himself, trying to dismiss the cryptic words as the chem induced ramblings of a crazy old lady.

~*~

“…I’m serious, just nothing for...for miles but sand,” Madds continued. “Plus, they had these massive tombs built out of stone blocks,” he steepled his hands in the air. “Sort of…shaped like a big triangle, its where they kept their dead kings. Oh, and they worshipped cats.”

MacCready gave him a look, wide eyed and innocent. “Oh-ho, really?! I do too, when I’m starving!” Laughter bubbled out, he had a tendency to crack himself up. His laugh was always a little too loud, a little too high pitched, and probably went on longer than it should, but Madds never seemed to mind. Instead he shot a mildly exasperated smile back at MacCready, “Worshiped them like gods, you knuckle head. They weren’t _eating_ them.”

“Well, clearly these ageiptions –”

“E. Gyp. Tians.”

“That’s what I said. I think you’re goin deaf, old man.”

Madds chuckled, shifting the heavy pack of gear on his back. “Might be a blessing, all your snoring leaves a lot to be desired.”

MacCready only snorted in response, rubbing thoughtfully at a cut on his freshly shaven cheek.

The men had left the protected confines of Sanctuary the day before, having stocked up on provisions and weaponry for the task ahead. Before departing, MacCready had been excited to find a razor and scissors in the remains of the old bathroom in Madds’s home, and quickly set to work taming the stubbly mess that had become of his face.

He felt warmth pool in his gut at the memory of Madds’s appreciative look when he had emerged from the house, a substitute rifle slung over his shoulder.

_“Ready, kid?”_

_“Cocked, locked and ready to rock, boss.”_

Madds cleared his throat, interrupting MacCready’s daydream. “That the overpass?” The crumbling remains of a major highway loomed ahead, the makeshift stronghold dotted across its surface was visible from where they now stood.

A shot rang out, the offending bullet ricocheting off of a nearby car. “Yep, that’s the one.”

“Should have known we wouldn’t be getting a warm welcome.” Madds quipped, thumbing the safety off of his laser rifle. “Lay down some cover, would you?”

They stormed the overpass in a hail of bullets, this time they had the upper hand. Madds charged forward, tossing the occasional grenade ahead of him, while MacCready moved swiftly from cover to cover, well placed rounds dropping any gunners sniping from above.

“Hey!” Madds shouted. “There’s some kind of lift over here!” The lifeless body of a gunner crashed to the ground near him with a wet thud. “Holy shit! Mac, watch it!”

“I’m not an amateur, you know?” MacCready stated smugly, striding over to the rickety wooden platform.

Madds sighed. “Give me strength,” together they boarded the lift and he mashed the red button. “Next stop…”

An assaultron was there to greet them when they reached the top, its sleek form aggressively dodging all of their defensive fire. With a strangled cry, Madds was knocked back, the damaged asphalt taking skin with it as he slid across. He clamored to get back to his feet, the ‘face’ of the robot glowing a deadly red only feet away. With a crunch, MacCready drove the stock of his rifle into the lens of the assaultron, knocking it down and disrupting its laser. In one swift motion his flipped the rifle around, pumping a shot into its head point blank, causing a shower of sparks and smoke to erupt from the ruined metal.

“Thanks,” Madds winced, trying to ignore the blood running down his arm to the ground. “What was that thing?”

“Some kinda robot from your time, those lasers can be deadly though. I’ve never tangled with one up so close before.”

Men could be heard shouting somewhere past a poorly constructed shelter farther down the crumbling road, and Madds turned to MacCready, arching a brow. Without a pause he pulled the pin from a grenade, hurling it in that direction, they stood quietly, listening to the sound of a high-pitched scream cut suddenly short upon detonation.

MacCready cautiously started forward, his finger on the trigger. Smoke was still thick in the air as he rounded the small shed, and he stumbled briefly; a quick glance down revealing a charred arm under his boot. _Guess the grenade did the trick…_

A sputtering cough floated out to him from the dissipating haze. “W..well…I sure am surprised to…to see you again, RJ.”

Otto was slouched back against a concrete barrier, a familiar green cap perched atop his greasy head, while Barnes lay curled and keening in a pool of his own blood on the ground nearby; the mangled stump of his shoulder protruding unnaturally into the air.

MacCready didn’t respond, his eyes remained locked on Otto’s as he stepped over the remains of Winlock. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; he wanted to scream, to pummel the lowlife’s head in with his bare hands, but he forced himself to maintain this expressionless façade. He didn't want to give that SOB the satisfaction of seeing him flustered. The three of them had made his life a living hell for too long up to this point, they were worse than animals. The things he had seen, hell…the things they had done to him, his head was swirling with visions of past atrocities, and he felt dizzy.

“Lookin a little sick there, boy.” Otto wheezed, bright pink froth leaked from the corner of his mouth.

Barnes’s next screech was immediately silenced by a shot from MacCready’s rifle.

The red-haired gunner took a shallow rattling breath, the tip of rebar jutting from his chest glistening red in the noon-day sun. “Knew I shoulda killed you myself,” he tried to laugh, it was a rough choking sound which sent a fresh wave of foam oozing from between his lips. “O…or revived you…then k…kept ya as a pet,” Otto tilted his chin up, staring defiantly up at MacCready. “You wo…would have been fun to break. I…wonder h…how long you woulda sc...screamed before –” Otto never felt the barrel press between his out of focus eyes, or heard the hammer fall; the ease of his death was a mercy which would at times be a source of regret for the young mercenary.

MacCready let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, an involuntary sob tearing its way from his throat. He stood there, shuddering and eyes shut tight in the fresh silence. The muted crunch of boots on gravel escaped him, and he almost jumped out of his own skin when a hand came to rest on his back.

“You okay, Mac?” Madds asked softly, concern and something else… _understanding?_ Evident on his face.

MacCready cleared his throat, nodding unconvincingly. “Yeah, just glad its over.” He turned to Madds, a combination of the proximity of their bodies and waning adrenaline sent a shiver down his spine. He remained rooted in place, his gaze moving to linger on Madds’s lips.

“Hey, boss?”

“Yeah?”

“I…I want to give you the caps you paid me back in Goodneighbor,” casting his eyes down, he fumbled with an inner pocket of his duster. “I mean, you’re the one who hired me, but then I dragged you out here into this mess.”

“Mac, I wasn’t about to let you have all this fun yourself.” Madds responded with a smirk, nudging him playfully in the arm.

MacCready laughed, it was small but genuine. “Glad you enjoyed it,” his shoulders relaxed, and he was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was. “I just want everything to remain even, and right now…well you’re one up on me.”

Madds playfully rolled his eyes. “You are the most serious twenty-something I’ve ever known,” He looked out at the Commonwealth and back to MacCready. “Listen, we’re friends. This is what friend’s do, they help each other.” Leaning over, he snatched the green hat from the gunners’ corpse, pressing it into MacCready’s chest with a wink. “Now, how do you feel about grabbing our gear and getting the hell out of this place?”

“You’re speaking my language, boss.” MacCready clutched his hat and watched Madds turn away. He felt himself blushing into the dusty afternoon. _We’re friends_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of time between chapter 4 and this one. Words cannot describe the hell that my week was at work, other than multiple 14 hour days and no down time to write.


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready finally make it to Fort Hagen, will they find what they're looking for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see some epic fanart at the end by the talented @Delborovic of tumblr, of Madds and Mac.

Madds looked away, inhaling sharply through his teeth. “D…do we have any Med-X?”

“No, now stop moving around.”

“Fucking hell, stop…stop!” He shouted, wrenching his arm away.

MacCready sighed, letting a pair of blood stained tweezers drop back onto the table. “You realize we have to get all this crap out _before_ you can use a Stimpak?”

“I know…” Madds stared down at the ugly grit filled wound, flexing his fingers. “Just…try to go fast,” He begrudgingly laid his arm back across the chipped laminate surface. “You know, I bet two hundred years ago somebody sat right here, having coffee, maybe eating a bagel. Now look at us.”

“Look at us?” MacCready asked, casually sloshing vodka over the tweezers. “Look at you. I’m not the one missing layers here.”

“If you’re suggesting I was being reckle – agh! Goddammit!”

MacCready swallowed hard, blocking out the pained sounds coming from the owner of the arm. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly, and he paused only long enough to wipe the sweat collecting at his upper lip; piece by piece he plucked gravel from the wound, his free hand gripping Madds’s trembling wrist to steady it. He barely noticed when Madds grabbed the bottle of liquor, only when it was slammed back onto the table, just a little too hard, did he cut his eyes up.

“That’s it then, let me rinse it off.” MacCready mumbled, sliding the rickety chair back. He was beyond tired; the day had been long and overly eventful, he was ready to be done. They had spent a great deal of time picking over the remains of the gunner camp, leaving no footlocker unopened. Caps, weapons, and ammunition had all been plentiful, but so had every other piece of junk, the sorts of items which never ceased to capture Madds’s attention.

_Nothing left now but scorched earth_. He thought wearily, eyeing the overstuffed pack in the floor. There it sat, bursting to the seams with crap. _Because what we really need is another…whatsit called?_ MacCready rummaged through the multitude of items, finally pulling a carton of water from the hoard, _a…plunger. Super important_. Although, he couldn’t deny he had been elated to find not only his missing hat, but rifle as well.

Madds looked up at him when he approached, pain and exhaustion etched into his face. “Who knew you were so good with your hands?” He said, smiling weakly.

MacCready rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh; instead pouring water over the tortured forearm, sending red tinged water splashing to the floor. “I guess _doctor_ would‘a been a more respectable career,” he joked, tossing the empty carton aside and grabbing a Stimpak from the nearby countertop; uncapping and stabbing the needle deep into Madds’s shoulder in a single fluid motion. “But it just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

~*~

The remaining liquor went down smooth and easy between them, with both men chatting and giggling quietly in the crisp night air. Once the Stimpak had taken effect, they went about gathering up their gear and relocated to the roof; most of the time it was safer to sleep there. Bedrolls were spread out behind them, and rations had been consumed. They were only half a day’s march from Fort Hagen, but for a few hours, at least, they could let their guard down.

“C’mon Mac, there’s a little bit left.” Madds wagged the near empty bottle in MacCready’s face. His feet swinging playfully over the edge of the building they were sitting on.

The young mercenary pushed the bottle away. “I have to be able to drag your drunk-ass outta here if raiders show up.”

Madds snorted, finishing off the booze. “You don’t think I’m capable of holding my own?”

“Boss, I’d be surprised if you can even hold your dick to take a piss right now.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

MacCready watched the neck of the bottle slip through his friend’s fingers, the sharp sound of glass shattering echoed from somewhere below. Madds looked over at him, momentarily straight faced before erupting into another fit of laughter. _What are the odds he pitches right off this roof?_ He seemed to catch on to the judgmental expression MacCready was wearing, and quickly stifled the racket, his hands busying themselves by fidgeting with the plain wedding band around his finger.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” MacCready asked, eyeing the smooth gold metal being twisted around.

Madds stared down at his hands. “Not really, I mean here I am wearing this…when she’s been dead for years at this point,” he sighed. “But it still feels like it only just happened.” Madds grew quiet for a time, and MacCready didn’t push him to say more. In the distance gunshots could be heard, but they were far enough away to not be of interest, leaving both men to sit staring out over the ruined town around them.

“We met in high school, sort of a cliché high school sweethearts things, you know?” Madds started again.

MacCready did not understand the reference, but he nodded politely.

“Nora…she was such a strong woman, also completely bullheaded,” he chuckled, flicking a piece of rubble off the ledge. “She absolutely would not agree to marry me until _after_ I got back from my tour with the military. Said it was bad luck to do so beforehand, as if I wouldn’t make it back otherwise.” He began to scoot backwards away from the edge. “I miss her…it was terrible what happened. Which is why I need to find Shaun. Even if…even if the end result isn’t what I am hoping for,” He swallowed hard and MacCready watched his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ve got to at least try, for her.”

“We’re gonna find him, Madds. Whatever it takes.”

Madds smiled. “Thanks Mac, for listening.” He pulled his legs under him and staggered to his feet.

“You need some help there, boss?” MacCready asked, not hiding the amusement in his voice as he got up, moving to sling Madds’s arm across his shoulders.

“You know what? I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“I fu…freaking hope so. Otherwise why am I helping your wobbly ass to bed?”

Madds snickered, turning his face towards MacCready. He could feel the older mans breath hot on his neck, and silently willed his body to not react. _Mirelurks…all slimy and wet, that gross clicking noise they make…I bet he tastes like vodka._

“Uh…well here you go,” MacCready mumbled, kicking open the sleeping bag. “Christ, you’re f’ing heavy…” He slowly knelt down until Madds could flop onto the yellow sack.

MacCready waited with him while he drunkenly maneuvered his way into the sleeping bag, a tangled mess of uncooperative limbs and fabric. _Oh, he’s gonna feel this tomorrow._

Yawning, MacCready made his way to the other bed roll. By the time he got settled under the threadbare cover, he could hear the even breathing of his companion nearby. _At least this means we’ll probably be sleeping in tomorrow_. He mused, loosening his belt and unfastening the button of his jeans. With a cautionary side glance at the sleeping man, he let his hand slide over the bulge forming behind a pair of worn out underwear.

He stifled a moan, squeezing himself through the thin fabric. It had been too long; between a near constant road worn exhaustion, and cramped sleeping arrangements, he rarely found periods where he could indulge in one of life’s little escapes. Giving the darkened shape lightly snoring nearby one last look, he turned his attention back on himself. _Last thing I need is for Madds to catch me jerkin’ it. I’d never hear the end of that…_ His train of thought briefly stopping at the memory of the relentless teasing which would occur anytime they caught someone playing a game of ‘beat the meat’ back in Little Lamplight.

MacCready arched his back, lifting his buttocks off of the ground, and shimmied his jeans down his narrow hips. He took a steadying breath, giving the hardened flesh another tight squeeze and began to slowly rub himself. He clenched his eyes shut, imagining Lucy was here, her small hand was slipping under the waistband of his underwear, her soft fingers were the ones gripping his throbbing cock. MacCready cradled the back of his head with his free hand, he was so far gone already.

But these fingers weren’t soft, they were calloused and rough, and he found himself wondering if Madds’s hands would feel similar to his own. He started pulling himself while imagining the older man doing the same. How he would squeeze at the base and pull up, giving that little twist at the head which felt so good, his thumb brushing lightly over the precum forming there before rubbing back down to the base again. MacCready bit his lip, his hand simulating the fantasy as it played out in his mind. It was all too much and if it didn’t feel so good he'd likely be embarrassed by how close he already was. He imagined Madds’s hand speeding up, it's movements copied by his own. “Madds…” he breathed, arching his back slightly with a throaty moan, and then he was coming, the warm fluid spilling itself over his hand. His breath hitched in his throat and he curled his toes, quickly releasing his now oversensitive cock as he came back down from it all.

MacCready took a deep breath to steady his panting, lazily wiping the mess he had made on the outside of the sleeping bag and trying not to allow the last several minutes to sink in just yet.

~*~

“The door isn’t locked, come on!” Madds called out, ducking inside of a darkened doorway.

MacCready took a second glance around the abandoned carport, his eyes quickly scanning the dark room for any signs of hostiles. Satisfied that they were alone, he came out from around a dusty blue sportscar and ran to catch the door before it closed.

Light filtered in through dingy windows, illuminating the heavy layer of dust being disturbed with every opened door and footstep. With a name like Fort Hagen, MacCready had been expecting a rundown military base, maybe some prewar electronics or weapon caches. Instead they were moving stealthily through some kind of office, and he was mildly surprised that Madds wasn’t grabbing every piece of junk along their way.

“Boss, you sure this is the right place?”

Madds didn’t respond, instead lifting his fist into the air, signaling for him to stop. “Shh, I swear I heard something.”

“Whoever you are, I know you’re there.” A synthesized voice stated from somewhere ahead of them.

“Damn!” MacCready hissed, sidestepping hurriedly to the right, barely dodging a laser beam which streaked past into the wall behind them.

“What are those things, Mac!?” Madds asked, pulling the pin from a grenade and hurling it down the hall.

“Synths…goddamn synths.”

The explosion shook the building, raining moldy ceiling tiles down onto their heads. MacCready coughed, burying his nose and mouth into the crook of his arm, trying to filter out all of the dust and debris he was sucking in.

“I don’t understand,” he heard Madds mumble somewhere in front of him. “You mean like that detective we met?”

MacCready crept cautiously forward, his free hand groping ahead of him until he touched the rough fabric of Madds’s minuteman coat. “No, they aren’t like _him_. These are some kind of Institute abomination, I’ve heard sometimes they look more human than robot, but they’re just mechanical killing machines.”

“I keep hearing about this Institute…”

“Yeah, I hope they’re only here by coincidence.”

The dust finally settled and it was discovered that the grenade had done the trick in regards to the synths, only a pile of smoldering wires and components were left, and MacCready wrinkled his nose at the black smoke trailing up from the ruined metal as they walked by.

More synths were encountered during their progression through the winding halls, the décor slowly becoming more industrial, and the office cover slipping away as they made their way down a flight of concrete stairs. The two men silently passed through a control room littered with surveillance equipment and computers, the small green icons blinking incessantly on the preserved consoles.

Madds paused at a locked door, his fingers tapping away at the plastic keys beneath a small wall mounted computer. “Got it.” The metal hinge slid back with a clank and the door swung open. MacCready was always impressed by Madds’s lockpicking and hacking skills, he wasn’t sure where he had learned how to do it, but something about hearing a tumbler click home really did it for him.

~*~

“And there he is…” said a gruff voiced man. “The most resilient man in the Commonwealth…”

_This has gotta be Kellogg_. Thought MacCready, as he followed closely behind Madds.

“You murdering, kidnapping psychopath. Give me my son. Give me Shaun! Now!” Madds growled.

MacCready vaguely heard Kellogg’s reply, something about Shaun being older than expected and ‘so close, but so far away’, he kept his eye on the synths lurking behind the balding mercenary while he slowly made his way to the cover of several nearby terminals. When Madds finished interrogating the man, he would prefer to be in an optimal sniping position for those tin cans with guns.

“At least he’s in a loving home. The Institute.”

_Oh no…_

“Haven’t you been paying attention?”

_This is bad…this is really bad, we’re never going to get that poor kid back_.

“You don’t find the Institute. The Institute finds you.”

The Institute wasn’t as infamous in the Capital Wasteland as it was here, and while MacCready had heard of robot people and ‘synths’, they weren’t frequently discussed. After arriving in the Commonwealth, it seemed that these robotic horrors were whispered about in every corner; he had heard stories of settler abduction and replacement by look-a-likes, entire towns decimated by metallic skeletal soldiers, a secret society conducting terrifying experiments. _If they’re the ones who have that little boy…_

MacCready was snapped back into the moment by the low hum of the safety flicking off on Madds’s laser rifle. In an instant, bursts of energy were streaking back and forth across the room, with rounds from his rifle soon joining the fray.

The firefight while short, was intense. Several minutes after it began MacCready found himself approaching Madds, who was standing over a badly wounded Kellogg. “That wasn’t even worth wasting my bullets.” He remarked, a smirk quickly fading on his lips the closer he got to the pair.

“Fucking piece of shit! Why’d she have to die!?” Madds screamed, kicking the man in the side. “You are a fucking monster!”

Kellogg groaned, rolling to his side and coughing up blood. “You know…” he retched. “We have more in common than you can even imagine, you and I.”

“I am _nothing_ like you.” Madds snarled, falling onto the bloodied man.

MacCready dropped his gaze, wincing at the wet sounds of the man’s skull colliding with the concrete over and over again. When the crunching noises finally stopped he looked back up, Madds was straddling the corpse.

“Hey…Madds?” He asked softly, placing a hand onto his shoulder.

Madds hunched forward trembling, before shaking him off and standing up. MacCready stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.

“I really thought Shaun might be here,” Madds ground out, slamming a bloody fist down onto the top of a computer. “I was so stupid…” His face was glistening with sweat, and possibly tears. MacCready watched a bead of crimson drip to the floor from a deep gash cut into the flesh above Madds’s right eye.

“We’re gonna find him, boss.”

“I’m not your boss.” He snapped, turning back to Kellogg and reaching down into the pulverized mess that was once his head.

_Oh god…I might throw up_. MacCready watched in silent horror as Madds pulled some sort of metal component attached to brain matter out of the gory heap. He wanted to ask him what that was, or why he was stuffing it into their pack, but he thought better of it.

Madds wiped his bloody hands off unsuccessfully on his coat and slung the old pack over his shoulder. Without a word he turned and opened a discreetly placed side door, striding back into the harsh sunlight of the Commonwealth.

MacCready huffed in exasperation. “Think you might at least tell me where we’re headin?”

“Kellogg had some kind of computer chip in his head…I want to ask Valentine if he’s ever seen anything like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	7. A Road Well Travelled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and Mac need to get Detective Valentine's opinion on a piece of hardware plucked from Kelloggs brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a big THANK YOU to everyone who continues to tune in for more random adventures around the Commonwealth. Writing this is seriously such a pleasure and really gets me through the week, plus I love all the comments! Y'all are the best :)

The hours spent walking back towards Diamond City had been noticeably tense, the monotony of the march punctuated only briefly by MacCready alerting Madds to the presence of a skittish radstag herd, and when the older man stepped off the road to take a piss.

With a grimace MacCready pulled his hat off, wiping it across his sweaty brow. The late afternoon sun continued to beat down harshly on them, despite the time of year. “Don’t you just love it when the weather feels like it came straight outta the devil’s ass?”

Madds didn’t immediately answer, instead shooting an unamused look back over his shoulder. “If you’d pick up the pace a little may—agh!” His leg disappeared suddenly down a hole in the ground and he pitched forward onto his outstretched hands, the dry soil swallowing his leg up to the thigh.

“You alright?”

All around them the ground rattled, and MacCready watched three canine-sized rodents force their hairless bodies up and out of the sand.

“F…freaking mole rats!” MacCready shouted, quickly putting a round into the gaping maw of the closest animal, its pale wrinkled body collapsing with a thud.

“Mac! Please…I…could use your help here!”

Madds was still buried to his groin in the mole rat tunnel, with one of the creatures bearing down on him. He hadn’t had time to unsling his gun and now grasped the mole rats enlarged front teeth in his hands, attempting to keep it at bay.

Reflexively MacCready trained his rifle on the slavering head which was lunging in Madds’s grasp, he squeezed the trigger, and suddenly found himself being thrown sideways; his head bouncing off the hard ground from the impact and his teeth clamping down into his tongue.

Disoriented he scrambled up, reflecting on how he had luckily managed to maintain a grip on his rifle. Unfortunately, before he could regain his footing the mole rat heaved itself into his abdomen, knocking him back flat onto his ass. The gun went off in his hands when he hit the ground, ripping through the animal in front of him, and misting him with blood.

Wheezing, MacCready remained seated in the dirt, clutching his rifle and covered in mole rat gore. _Holy crap_ , he thought, putting a hand to his forehead and pulling away blood stained fingers.

“So, when you have a minute...” Madds called casually over to him.

MacCready coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood and sand. “Yeah, I’m fine by the way,” He croaked, climbing to his feet. His whole body ached, and he knew he would definitely be sporting a nasty bruise in a few hours. “Piece of crap.” He muttered, delivering a hard kick to the dead animal’s grotesque lumpy face.

“You can’t get outta there yourself?” He asked sarcastically, approaching Madds.

The dark-haired man stared incredulously up at him from around the mole rat carcass, his mouth slightly agape. “Wow, you know what…why didn’t I think of that?”

“If you’re going to continue being a dick,” MacCready chided, folding his lean arms across his chest, and feeling particularly smug about the current situation. “Well, I might just be inclined to leave you down there while I take a rest, _boss_.”

Multiple emotions flickered across Madds’s face while he looked up at him, and MacCready was mildly surprised when in the end he cast his eyes down, then rested clumsily back on his haunches. “I’m sorry, Mac.” He sighed, pulling the ragged captains hat off and running his fingers through his damp hair. “It’s hot as fucking hell out here, so would you please help me out of this hole?”

MacCready laid his rifle down and moved to squat behind the trapped man. “I guess I’ll just…” he gripped Madds under the arms and tried to pull him up, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Somethings got my foot wedged down in this fucking thing,” Madds ground out, trying to drag himself forward.

“Alright, stop…get back up…I’m going to count to three, then…get your other leg under you…yeah, like that,” MacCready shifted to thread his arms under Madds’s armpits, suddenly very aware of how firm the other man’s body was. There was no time to think about mirelurks, or super mutant feet, all he could hope was that Madds couldn’t feel his _reaction_ , what with his body now pressed into his back.

“Ah, okay, one…two…three!” He yelled, pulling up with all of his strength, while Madds fought to dislodge his foot.

“F’ing hell!” MacCready gasped, and with a small cry Madds sank roughly back down.

“A…at this rate,” Madds winced, clenching his fists in discomfort. “You may have to start shoveling me out.”

The disheveled mercenary ran a hand over his face, unwilling to entertain the idea of digging away out here like a damn dog. “Okay, c’mon, you gotta help me here. We’re getting you out of this freaking rat nest.”

“Well I’m certainly not _trying_ to hinder this rescue operation.”

MacCready circled around to Madds’s front, kneeling down and motioning for him to put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m going to try and lift you…but I need you to push up,” Their eyes met and he hastily looked down, “Count of three again, alright?”

“Count of…what was it? Three?” Madds gave a strained chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve got it.”

MacCready grabbed a fistful of Madds’s pants in one hand and firmly gripped the trapped inner thigh with the other. “One… --”

“Mind the goods, kid.” Madds interjected.

“…two…three!” MacCready groaned in pain as Madds’s fingers dug into his shoulders, pushing off of him while MacCready struggled to lift him up and out of the hole.

After what felt like minutes spent straining and huffing awkwardly in the sand, it finally paid off and Madds stumbled weakly backwards, falling onto the ground. For a while the two men sat across from each other, breathing hard alongside the abandoned highway.

“Thanks.” Madds told him between breaths. “Why…why don’t we find somewhere to take a break?”

“Not gonna argue with that.”

~*~

The flames from a small fire crackled beneath a spit of mole rat meat, which was slowly roasting not far from where the two men sat. MacCready had helped Madds limp over to the remains of an old front porch, before going back to carve up their lunch. _At least you don’t have to fuss with skinning them_. He mused.

“You know, you go through stimpaks like they’re going outta style.”

Whatever had pinned Madds’s foot in that hole had really done a number on it, and the man now sat with his leg outstretched, hesitantly prodding at the swollen and bruised ankle, his boot laying discarded nearby.

“I don’t use any more than you do.”

MacCready tutted, striking a match to light the cigarette hanging from his lip. “Hmm, I believe the word you used the other night was “reckless”.” He punctuated the comment with a long drag, nearly sighing in relief on the exhale. What could he say? _'Least I’m not addicted to chems_.

“Reckless…” the word seemed to roll off of Madds tongue. “Perhaps I am,” He leaned over, digging through the backpack and producing a small syringe, rolling up his pants leg he proceeded to stab it into the exposed calf muscle. “Although, if I weren’t so _reckless_ …I wouldn’t have had the honor of you groping me.” He explained, laughing low in his throat.

“I should’a left you balls deep in that mole rat tunnel.” MacCready snorted, pushing the scene of his hand wedged between Madds’s thighs from his mind. No need to start turning red again, or worse. Without warning, the cigarette was plucked from his mouth and he started. “Really?”

“I mean, you could have asked if I had wanted one to begin with.” Madds replied coolly, tilting his head back to blow a smoke ring towards what was left of the metal awning.

Without response MacCready got up and went to the cooking fire, busying himself with removing the now darkened meat. Along with his own misgivings over his feelings for the other man, sexual or otherwise, he still wasn’t convinced Madds was seriously coming onto him.

 _More than likely this is just all in my head_. He thought, carefully sliding a chunk of meat off the skewer. _I’m just starved for human contact is all, plus…Madds isn’t bad on the eyes_. The meat was stringy and slightly sweet when he took a bite, and he couldn’t help but lick the grease from his fingers. _To be honest, not getting laid for a few years probably isn’t making this extended travelling arrangement of ours any easier_.

But MacCready knew it wasn’t just a pent-up sex drive fueling that giddy feeling he got so often now when Madds was close. No, month by month he had grown to respect and admire the vault dweller, Madds had continued to go above and beyond for him; sticking his neck out for no materialistic reward. Other than his Lucy, there had been few people in his life who he could truly rely on or consider a close friend.

Regardless, while at times it felt like there was something undeniably intentional about Madds’s teasing, or those perfect lazy smiles in his direction, MacCready still wouldn’t believe that he was interested in being anything more than friends. Acknowledging that possibility would require him to come to terms with his own feelings, between questioning his sexuality and what had happened to Lucy, he wasn’t sure he was ready yet.

“Mac?”

MacCready looked back to the porch where his companion rested. “Huh, yeah?”

“You’re spacing out over there. I asked if the rats taste as good as they look?” Madds joked, stubbing the used-up butt out on a floorboard.

“Better than you would imagine.”

“That’s a relief.” Madds reached up to scratch at the dark stubble covering his chin, eyeing the young man thoughtfully. “Hey, I just…wanted to apologize.”

“For taking my cigarette?” MacCready rejoined him, handing over the skewer of mole rat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know what I meant.”

~*~

As the day waned, clouds eventually passed over the sun, bringing some relief to the unbearably hot afternoon. While they reclined against the partial wall, snacking and listening to whatever old music came crackling through the pipboy. In the distance a small brahmin caravan moved slowly across the open field, but neither man paid them any mind; for now, they had plenty of ammunition and supplies.

“I’ve got to admit,” Madds began, interrupting a rather upbeat song about women and guns. “I really thought that tracking down and killing Kellogg would make me feel…better. That it would give me some sort of relief,” with the press of a finger the music was cut short, and he let his arm drop heavily into his lap. “Death and violence come so easily out here, nobody so much as bats an eye to put a bullet through someone’s head.”

MacCready silently took a swig of purified water, letting it wash over his wounded tongue. How many ferals had he killed with the image of Lucy in the back of his mind? Their leathery flesh caving in under the impact of his rifle stock. This was a topic he was all too familiar with, one which reared its ugly head when he closed his eyes at night. He was conscious of the fact that killing never did seem to ease the burden.

 _Here we sit. Just two members of the ‘dead wives club’, road worn and bitter_.

“It’s not your fault what happened to her, you know?”

Madds sighed. “Doesn’t make it any less awful. I watched her die, Mac...she watched me watch her die.”

~*~

They had departed shortly after that. The mood remaining somber as they finished the last leg of the trip back to Diamond City, each man quietly absorbed in their own thoughts while they walked. MacCready reflected on the dogged persistence with which Madds ran down each lead on his missing son, not that he felt he would be any different. If someone had snatched Duncan away, there wouldn’t be a hole deep enough where they could hide from him.

 _This is probably how he copes with it all. Chasing after Shaun to distract from watching his wife die, to pretend that the world as he knew it hadn’t been destroyed_. MacCready glanced over at the green statue of a man wielding a club which marked the entrance to the city. _I mean, one minute you’re taking a cold nap, the next you’re learning that everyone you loved, and anything you ever cared about, is long gone..._ He wasn’t sure how he would handle such a revelation, but likely not with as much levelheadedness as Madds displayed.

Once again, they found themselves in the cluttered office of Diamond Cities very own synth detective, along with a local woman, a reporter, named Piper.

“The Institute…yeah I’ve been investigating them for a few years now,” The young woman told them, running a hand through her dark hair. “They’re the Commonwealth’s boogeyman.”

She went on to confirm what MacCready had heard before, nobody knew where the Institute headquarters was or who they even were, except probably for Kellogg, who now lay in a pile of his own pulverized brain matter back in Fort Hagen.

Piper crossed her arms, throwing them both a disapproving look. “Figures, we finally get one good lead on these weirdos and poof, back to square one.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’d kill him again in a heartbeat.” Madds snapped defensively.

Valentine raised his hands, trying to defuse the situation. “Now why don’t we all calm down, huh?” he chimed in, looking back and forth between them. “I knew that Kellogg wouldn’t come quietly the first time I laid eyes on him.”

Everything about _him_ made MacCready uncomfortable, from his skeletal looking hand to those bright yellow eyes, Valentine was like a sort of eerie caricature of a human, or some prewar comic book character. Yet despite all of this, Madds seemed unfazed, he never gave any indication he found anything odd about a poorly constructed metal human wearing a trench coat.

“Boss, what about the thing you found? That chip you pulled out of his head?”

“Yeah, Nick, have you ever seen anything like this?” Madds asked, unslinging the backpack and rifling through it for the component he had pulled from Kellogg’s brain.

“You know, I think we just hit the jackpot.” Valentine said, inspecting the cybernetic device caked in dry blood.

MacCready barely managed to stifle a laugh when he noticed Piper eyeing the device in obvious disgust.

“Jesus, Nick. That’s gross!” She wrinkled her nose, looking quickly away.

“Hear me out, there’s this place in Goodneighbor run by a Doctor –-”

“Amari,” MacCready interrupted. “S’called the Memory Den.” While he had never visited the establishment himself, what caps he’d saved couldn’t be spared on entertainment, he had seen the good doctor around the bar once or twice.

“That’s right, this doctor Amari has equipment which can extract memories. She plays them on a movie screen of sorts, and well we might just be able to use this device to see how Kellogg got in and out of the Institute.” Valentine explained. 

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll tag along so as to introduce you to her," The detective adjusted his fedora. "Don't worry. We're gonna get your boy back. Just a few more steps."

“Thanks, Nick,” Madds stated, tucking the component away. “We’re ready when you are.”


	8. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready visit the Memory Lounge, and Mac finally confides in Madds about the fate of his own wife and son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At times I feel slightly bad about just what a slow burn this fic is, haha. Also, special thanks to Brian for all of your constructive criticism and ideas!

They had spent a good hour bartering at the shops before getting on their way, and Madds demeanor seemed lighter. Whether that was from unloading several pounds of useless crap off on Arturo, the weapons dealer, or because they had a new promising lead to follow, MacCready wasn’t sure.

The shadows lengthened as the sun began to set on the Commonwealth, eventually forcing Madds to turn on the flashlight equipped to his pipboy. While he could understand the desire to cover ground now, rather than wait until the morning, MacCready couldn’t say he was overly fond of travelling at night. Visibility out here was poor, and they were moving through tight roadways littered with debris. They wouldn’t know if something dangerous was there until it was too late.

“Name’s Mac, is it?” Valentine asked, falling back to walk alongside of him.

The synths yellow eyes glowed harshly in the dark. “You can call me MacCready.” He grunted, barely disguising his discomfort.

“Okay then, _MacCready_. How’d you wind up travelling with our mutual friend here?”

“He needed an extra gun, and I needed the caps.” MacCready’s response was short, his attention focused on the beam of light bobbing up ahead of them.

“So, you’re a mercenary then. Seems like a lucrative career these days.”

MacCready snorted. “Puts food in my stomach.”

Silence descended once more; clearly Valentine had gotten the hint. While MacCready wasn’t outright afraid of him, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Between the horror stories of rogue synths going on killing sprees, along with the idea of a robot made to impersonate a human to this extent…the whole thing didn’t sit well with him. _He’s like some kind of freakishly realistic Mr. Handy_.

~*~

The improvised laboratory was tucked into the backroom of an old burlesque theater; oversized beeping and humming computer systems shared the cramped space with tattered cabaret girl posters. MacCready’s attention was drawn from one such advertisement to the curious egg-shaped pods sitting in the middle of the room. _These must be the memory loungers_.

“You do realize that the memory simulators require intact, _living_ brains to function?” The gaunt older woman asked sarcastically.

Madds opened his mouth to speak but Valentine cut him off. “This component, well the original owner had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari. They’re the biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You need this, and so do we.”

Amari sighed, smoothing her hands over the wrinkles in her discolored lab coat. “I can’t make any promises that this will even work. Do you have… _it?_ ”

Madds stepped forward, handing her the small bundle of wires and flesh.

“This is a neural interface,” Amari turned the device over in her hands. “Attached to a hippocampus…it’s the portion of the brain which assists in the consolidation of information from short-term to long-term memory.” She explained to the questioning faces watching her.

“That’s good, right?” MacCready asked, looking to Madds. “If this hippo…thing stores memories?”

Amari cleared her throat. “The _good_ thing about this, is that the device it is attached to is clearly Institute technology. All of which has similar design. Mister Valentine is an older generation synth. But, Institute technology being what it is…”

“The implant might just fit me.” Valentine finished.

“It is an incredibly risky procedure. We would be wiring this to your brain.”

“Don’t worry about me, Amari. I’m well past my warranty date anyhow.”

~*~

The clear dome gave a hiss when it finally unlatched, and Madds bolted up and out of the worn seat inside of the pod.

“Hey! Slow movements,” Amari demanded. “I don’t know what kind of side effects the procedure might have had.”

“Boss, you okay?” MacCready rushed to his side, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

Earlier, Doctor Amari had revealed that the neural interface had been locked with an encryption. A final failsafe to keep the Institutes secrets from falling into the wrong hands. In light of this discovery only one option presented itself, upload Madds’s consciousness into the system parallel with Valentine’s. This would allow Madds to navigate the encrypted synapsis, with the hope that some information on the physical location of the Institute could be learned.

“Is…is this safe?” MacCready had asked when Madds volunteered without hesitation.

“The usual process is, it simply requires the copying of mental content from a brains substrate onto a computational device, this device then runs a simulation model of the original brains content.”

Madds was climbing into a pod, and Amari was attaching flat electrodes to his temples.

“The _usual_ process?” MacCready heard himself say, watching the domed hatch slide shut. He heard the computer system whirr to life and glanced over in time to see Amari flip a switch.

“No one’s ever…done this before.” She admitted.

MacCready had spent the better part of an hour watching Madds through the dingy glass. His eyes were wide and flicking back and forth wildly, Amari told him this was something similar to REM sleep. When he asked what that meant, she had explained it was how we dream.

Valentine had come out of the trance-like state first, and MacCready observed the doctor unhooking him from the pod system before removing the device attached to his brain. The synths voice and mannerisms seemed sporadically off, clearly mimicking the late Kellogg. The whole scene was unsettling, and he wondered if Madds would have any negative side effects from this as well.

~*~

MacCready knelt alongside of his friend, helping him to his feet.

“I…I don’t know Mac, am I okay?”

The doctor approached him, grasping Madds’s chin firmly, she clicked a small penlight on and shone it into his eyes, squinting at his response. “Your neural and physiological readings have returned to normal. From a medical standpoint, you’re fine.”

MacCready realized he was hovering and moved away, taking an almost comically nonchalant pose against a wall. _Since when did I become the fretful spouse? Ugh, and since when do I refer to myself as a spouse?_

“Are you ready to talk about what you saw?” Amari asked, tucking the penlight back into the pocket of her lab coat.

Madds shifted uncomfortably. He looked tired, as if the experience had aged him. “It looks like the Institute is using some kind of teleportation technology to get in and out of their base.”

“That would definitely explain why we haven’t been able to find them. The only question is, what do we do with this information?”

 _She’s supposed to be the expert, isn’t she?_ MacCready thought, shaking his head.

“Kellogg was hunting an escaped scientist, named Virgil. Supposedly he’s hiding out in a…uh _Glowing Sea?_ ” Madds explained, arching a brow at the look Amari gave him in response. “What?”

“There’s no way this guy ran away to that place,” MacCready huffed. “Hell, the Glowing Sea is so radioactive it’ll kill a man in seconds.”

“Sounds like the perfect hiding spot then,” Madds said matter-of-factly. “Probably makes the Institute think twice about coming after him.”

MacCready felt that Madds was really reaching with this theory but had found it was usually pointless to argue with him in the moment. He only hoped he could try to talk sense into him once they were away from here.

“Where’s Nick?” Madds asked, eyeing the empty second pod.

“Recovering upstairs while he waits for you.” Amari told him, waving them towards the doorway. “Good luck out there…be safe”

~*~

They had met briefly with the synth detective, and Madds had divulged their latest brilliant plan; fix up an old suit of power armor, in order to go gallivanting around the Glowing Sea in search of a rogue scientist. Nothing was ever straight forward. _Just step forty-bajillion and two in our hunt for Shaun_.

Rather than strike out immediately for Sanctuary, where the suit of power armor waited, MacCready had been able to persuade Madds to stay the evening in Goodneighbor. Sleeping without one eye open was a luxury, one he was prepared to take full advantage of, until he had gotten into their room at the Hotel Rexford.

_One bed…_

Madds told him he was going to grab drinks and would catch up with him if he wanted to go ahead and take the equipment up. “I mean, I _am_ the first one here.” He mumbled to himself, dropping their gear to the floor.

He removed his hat, laying it almost gingerly on the wooden nightstand. _Lucky I even managed to find you again_. With a yawn he began to strip out of his dirty clothes and collapsed into the bed.

Very little time had passed before Madds found his way to their room, a pair of beers in hand.

“Tight accommodations, huh?” He remarked, handing a beer to the young man lounging in the bed.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

MacCready soon found himself struggling to keep his eyes on the faded pages of the latest Grognak comic he was flipping through, but it was difficult not to sneak glances at his previous employer who was undressing nearby.

“What a long fucking day.” Madds sighed, sinking into a chair and nursing his beer.

Tossing the comic to the end of the bed, MacCready eyed the older man quietly. “What…what was it like? Being hooked up to that thing?”

“Sort of like the most vivid dream you have ever had…but one where you are still in total control of yourself.”

MacCready nodded, finishing his drink and letting the empty bottle fall to the floor, where it rolled slowly over to collide with Madds’s foot.

“I saw Kelloggs life in there,” Madds continued. “He was a human being, just like the rest of us. It’s so easy for me to just turn him into this…abstract evil doer, but he had reasons for being what he was, however cruel.” He downed the last of his beer, picking up the bottle at his feet and setting them both down neatly next to the chair. “I can’t blame him for everything that happened…”

“Those are wise words, boss.” MacCready responded, unsure of what else to say. He supposed everyone was molded by their experiences, but he wasn’t against going back to Fort Hagen and kicking the crap out of Kellogg’s corpse again, just for good measure.

Madds gave a half-hearted chuckle. “That’s me, full of sage wisdom and advice,” He stood up from the chair, stretching his arms stiffly over his head. “I suggest you scoot over.”

“Huh?” MacCready looked up at him in disbelief.

The lantern on the table was swiftly extinguished, plunging the room into darkness. “You can’t really expect me to sleep on this floor. There’s enough room for the both of us, now scoot.”

And MacCready was awkwardly shuffling over, _at least its dark_ , and the mattress was dipping in from the weight of a second body, _does he want to torment me?_

For what may have been the longest minute of MacCready’s life, they lay there silently, side by side. He could feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s mostly nude body, the way their shoulders brushed lightly against each other if they moved, and he was thankful that the dark room hid his body which was painfully betraying him.

“Grab the sheet, will ya?” Madds rumbled sleepily.

MacCready jabbed his elbow into the firm side pressed against him. “Seriously? Grab your own fuck…ugh freaking sheet.” He ground out in irritation, he was flustered and feeling defensive.

Madds laughed. “Ouch, you little shit! You ought to try cursing once in a while, it’s good for the soul.”

“Oh, believe me. I know.” MacCready muttered. “It’s not about you, it’s about a promise I made…”

He felt Madds shift, rolling over onto his side to face him. Despite the dark, he could make out that he was propped up on his elbow. “A promise?”

 _Do I really want to talk about this with him?_ MacCready wondered. The whole topic was sensitive and at times still raw. _But here’s this man, he has confided everything that has happened with his wife and son to me…if I can’t tell him, if he can’t understand, then who can?_

MacCready took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before he began. He went on to explain everything, going into far more detail than he had ever planned to. But the words flowed so easily from him. It felt therapeutic to get it out, off of his chest. No more secrets, or hidden agendas. Madds listened quietly while he spoke of Lucy and Duncan, how happy they had been…until. How he felt directly responsible for her death, and the guilt he felt for being here in the Commonwealth while Duncan was so far away and sick. But he needed caps to fund another attack on the feral infested Med Tek facility, it would take a small militia to get into that place, but it had to be done, he had to get that cure.

“Mac…” Madds said softly, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I wish you had told me sooner, but if there’s a cure out there, we’ll find it,” He grew quite for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. “Tomorrow, we are heading there tomorrow.”

MacCready swallowed hard. “But what about _Virgil?_ ” He asked, his voice cracking at the end.

“A few days won’t make a big difference for him, but it could for Duncan.”

“What you’re doing…no one’s ever cared that much about me before.”

Madds didn’t respond, instead he moved to grab the sheet, pulling it over them and laying back down. “Like I’ve said before, we’re friends. We help each other. Now, get some rest. We’ve got a long couple of days ahead of us.”

~*~

The rusted doors of the elevator rattled shut, closing on the fingers of a feral ghoul with a crunch. The grey digits still wriggled at them from in between the panels.

“So, now what do we do?” MacCready asked, examining the small metal room they were presently trapped in. “I mean, I guess maybe we can go up through the ceiling?” He looked up, there was a hatch visible there…if Madds boosted him up he could knock it out and…*ding* the room shuddered and MacCready let out a yelp.

“C’mon now, kid. Don’t panic on me, it’s just an elevator.” Madds chided, his voice laced with amusement.

MacCready pressed back into a corner, bracing himself. His stomach felt weird and although he couldn’t prove it, he was certain the room was moving. “Like…like a lift?” He asked, watching a panel full of numbered circles light up one after the other, in descending order.

“Exactly, it’s a lift indoors…I’m surprised it even still works to be honest.”

MacCready groaned.

It had taken them several days to reach the long-abandoned research facility, and one additional day in order to make it through the building itself. MacCready had been right, it was infested with feral ghouls. They had pushed forward, past the seemingly never-ending hordes of what once were humans, with Madds putting all of his computer hacking skills to the test.

All of their efforts were leading to this one last stop, a sub-level laboratory. According to terminal records, the compound they were looking for, aptly named Prevent, was stored in the bottom level of the facility.

The elevator rumbled to a stop, letting out a shrill beep before the doors rattled open once more.

MacCready sighed in relief, stumbling out of the small metal box on shaky legs. Madds laughed, following him into the corridor.

“Let’s spread out, it’s in here somewhere.” Madds stated, striding past him into the room ahead.

The laboratory was a mess, it looked as though a violent struggle had occurred here. Benches and tables were overturned, and glassware had been smashed. MacCready paused momentarily to study a human skeleton, its bleached bones displayed macabrely on an exam table. _What the hell were these scientists performing down here?_

“Not in the fridge.” Madds called out, and MacCready turned in time to see a skull grinning back at him from the crisper shelf. He shuddered.

Moving around the long counter, a large red syringe caught his eye. It was out of place in the otherwise muted room, and he carefully picked it up, examining the word scrawled into the label. _Prevent_.

“Hey, Madds.” MacCready practically whispered, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

_Duncan’s going to live, he’s going to be okay._

“You got it?” Madds asked, his tone urgent.

The word “yes” scarcely left his mouth before Madds’s hand was gripping his arm painfully tight, pulling him back towards the elevator.

“H…hey wha?” He managed as they raced along, a guttural snarl and the high-pitched crackling sound coming from Madds’s pipboy told him all he needed to know. _Glowing ones…_

They skidded to a stop inside of the metal box. The Giger counter strapped to Madds’s wrist was practically screeching now, and MacCready readied his rifle, spinning on his heels to face the bulbous creature. The doors were beginning to close, but it was too late, the glowing feral lunged awkwardly into the elevator with them just before the doors clanged shut.

The scene could have been considered comical; Just two men and glowing ghoul riding in an elevator. Madds slammed himself instinctively back into the wall, while MacCready unloaded a round into the humanoid’s chest, consequentially sending a spray of sickly yellow gore over the two of them. Being coated in radioactive blood seemed to jar Madds from his shocked stupor, and he quickly brought the stock of his rifle down into the ferals head, knocking it to the floor.

The elevator dinged once more, this time having brought them back to the main lobby. Although, the blast from MacCready’s rifle had damaged one door enough that it wouldn’t open.

“After you.” Madds said with an amused quirk of his lips, forcing the damaged panel back.

MacCready slung his rifle over his shoulder, pausing at the door to look up at his disheveled companion. “Madds, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this…”

“This is a friendship, not a business contract.” Madds remarked, moving in closer.

It was all too much, and MacCready couldn’t help but swiftly duck his head away, blushing like a teenager as he exited the lift.


	9. A Better Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready deliver the cure, then head back to Sanctuary for some R&R.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually on vacation this weekend, however I've got my laptop with me and should have chapter 10 up before long. Enjoy!

With a cure in hand, the pair made the trip back to Goodneighbor to meet with a shopkeeper there by the name of Daisy. The ghoulified woman ran a small establishment in the merchant district of the city, and was one of the few people here in the Commonwealth who MacCready trusted. It just so happened that she traded frequently with the brahmin caravans coming in from the Capital Wasteland, and he had used them in the past as a means to get messages out to Duncan.

“Hey there, beautiful,” MacCready crooned, approaching the counter. “I missed ya.”

Daisy laughed, it was a harsh raspy sound. “You’re such a lousy liar, MacCready. But I’ll just play stupid and pretend I don’t know that,” she flashed him a sly smile. “Now what can I do for you and your…friend?” She asked, with nod in Madds’s direction.

“Daisy, you aren’t going to believe it, but I got… _we_ got the cure for Duncan.”

An expression of shock flitted across her face at the statement. “Are you really serious? Oh my god! This is wonderful news! But how?” she paused, scrutinizing him in a way that suggested she was looking for missing body parts. “I mean, last time you tried those ferals nearly chewed you to bits.”

“I didn’t have to do it alone, my friend here got us through.” MacCready told her, motioning to the man now standing beside him.

“One of those _minuteman_ types, eh?” She teased, looking Madds up and down. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a caravan heading out of the Commonwealth tomorrow, and the driver owes me some favors.”

MacCready smiled, handing the carefully bundled syringe over to the woman. “Thanks, Daisy. You’re a doll.”

After a light discussion on the reliability of her current arms dealer, they said their goodbyes; with Daisy promising to send any news regarding Duncan’s condition back to Sanctuary via caravan.

“Take care of MacCready for me,” she called out as the two men walked away. “He’s one of the good ones.”

Madds chuckled, giving MacCready an appreciative pat on the back. “Definitely not so bad once you get to know him.”

~*~

“Hand me that wrench, will you?” Madds requested from somewhere behind a suit of power armor. “No, sorry the adjustable one.”

“This?”

“That’s the one.”

Sanctuary continued to live up to its name; with guarded borders, ample supplies, and a welcoming atmosphere, the settlement had provided a much-deserved rest to the weary travelers since their return the week before.

Giving the power armor hanging from its work station another cursory glance, MacCready returned to sit on a faded aluminum chair located in the makeshift garage, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to relax to this extent. _If this were all I had to do every single day…I’d go stir crazy_. He mused, reaching for an oily rag and returning to his current task at hand, cleaning his rifle.

After leaving the relative safety of the cave system he had grown up in, moments of true leisure had been few and far between. The forced exodus experienced by all Little Lamplight orphans at the age of sixteen, had been the beginning of the nonstop scramble for survival that was MacCready’s life. Those early years felt comparable to one big lucid dream; distinct but existing on some other plane entirely.

 _Have I really only been out on my own now for six years?_ He supposed so. Less than a year after stepping out into the harsh light of the Capital he was making good caps the only way he knew how; taking the odd mercenary job. One such contract involved guarding a caravan of settlers, the extended group needed protection while they relocated across the wasteland, and guard duty was a piece of cake.

 _At sixteen you feel unstoppable_. MacCready’s skill with a long-range rifle, paired with his charm, had allowed him to score the job with ease. That’s when he had met her. Shoulder length auburn hair and freckles, Lucy was the eldest daughter of her family. She was smart, beautiful, and tough as nails. It took him two days to gather the nerve to speak to her, and only three minutes to lie about his origins. _How could a girl like her ever fall for a boy like me?_ An orphan with bad teeth, raised off fungi and mole rats in an old cave system, out here trying to eke out a living as a gun for hire…

“You could still snag a caravan from here back to the Capital, you know?”

Madds’s voice brought him back from his reverie and he looked up from the barrel he was absentmindedly wiping down. The older man was standing with his back to MacCready, admiring the freshly restored set of power armor.

“I know,” MacCready tossed the rag aside, laying his rifle across his lap. “But Duncan is safe where he is right now…and you still need my help. Maybe when he is well enough to travel…”

“Would you bring him back to the Commonwealth then?” Madds asked, turning to face him. Grease seemed to coat every inch of the him, causing the dark hair on his head to stick up in all directions.

MacCready cracked an easy smile. _He’s going to be the death of me…_ “I’ve thought about it.”

Madds nodded, drawing a sweaty forearm across his brow.

“You’ve uh…got a little something…”

“Oh, I’m sure its more than just a little something,” Madds said with a quirk of his lips, hooking his fingers at the edge of his stained shirt he pulled it up and over his head. “I bet I look like I lost a fight with an octopus.”

“What the hell’s an…oct...opus?” MacCready demanded, unable to keep his eyes from wandering down the muscular torso in front of him, following the trail of dark hair which disappeared into the waistband of a pair of blue jeans.

“I honestly don’t know how to describe one to you…”

The men locked eyes, turning an awkward pause into something more intimate.

MacCready swallowed thickly, refusing to be the one to break away. “Give it a shot.”

“Well…” Madds started, bringing the damp shirt to his face in a futile attempt to remove additional sweat which was gathering there. “It was this deep-sea animal which had eight arms, all covered in suction cups…”

“Annnd here we go.” MacCready sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Suction cups,” Madds continued. “Are sort of similar to the rubber end on a plunger. So, eight arms, each with multiple little plunger cups on them.”

“You are so full of shit, err crap.”

“What would I gain from making this up? I mean, clearly you aren’t impressed by my wealth of knowledge.” Madds strode past him, ruffling the younger man’s hair when he went by.

MacCready closed his eyes tightly, silently willing his body to cooperate before rising from the chair and following after him. “I still don’t understand how you being covered in grease equates to a fight with an eight-armed plunger monster.”

“Because, they could spit ink.” Madds told him in his no-nonsense kind of way, gesturing to the stains all over his body.

MacCready gladly indulged him with a once over. “Of course they could.” He added sarcastically, stepping over the threshold of the home they were rooming in. The wild stories Madds told never failed to entertain him, from extravagant prewar civilizations to bustling amusement parks, he could listen to him recount even the most mundane details for hours on end.

Madds went about snagging a towel which he had hung up to dry from an old appliance. The otherwise nonfunctional kitchen served primarily for storage at this point in time; the familiar tan duster and heavy minuteman coat were among several items draped over various prewar gadgetry.

“What’s that face for?” MacCready asked, immediately suspicious of the look Madds gave him before he started out the back door.

“It’s absolutely _not_ your hair…”

In response MacCready reached up to touch his hair, pulling back a handful of greasy strands. “That’s just great, really great,” he grumbled wiping the mess off on his pants. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?!” He shouted after him, leaning his rifle against the couch.

The only answer came in the sound of the back door clicking shut. MacCready had been impressed by the tiny shower stall constructed behind the house. Three wooden panels provided relative privacy from prying eyes, while the water, being housed in a large plastic reservoir above it, was warmed by the sun. Comparative to his current experiences, it was luxurious to say the least.

“This had better come out.” He said aloud and stalked over to pull his clothing down. A hard lump in an inner pocket of his duster made him pause, from where he stood he could hear the water splashing outside onto the makeshift concrete floor.

MacCready gingerly pulled the wooden figurine out of its hiding place, turning it over in his hand. A small wooden soldier, carved with care and worn smooth over the years, the once vibrant green paint of its military jacket had begun to fade. “I loved you first.” He whispered, closing his fist tightly around this symbol of his past.

Lucy had been beyond excited to show him her creation, she had asked that he close his eyes before she placed it delicately into his outstretched hands. He had felt so guilty when he finally looked down at it. _What did I do to ever deserve you?_

He missed her terribly, part of him knew he always would. While Lucy could never be replaced, she would want him to be happy. _Hell, I’d want that for her if things were the other way around_. MacCready thought, smiling sadly. All of the memories, so many whispered promises and plans for the future, he would keep them close, but…he suddenly realized he could no longer hear the water out back running.

The door behind him opened and closed. “So, I was thinking worst case scenario, we shave your head,” Madds announced playfully, his feet smacking loudly on the old linoleum. “Hey, you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, MacCready turned to face him. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, and I suppose this is as good a time as any.”

“Uh…well, sure. What’s on your mind?” Madds asked, readjusting the towel wrapped around his waist.

“I…I want you to have this.”

Madds took the little soldier, quietly studying the details of the rifle in its grasp.

“I realize a carved toy soldier is a weird gift…”

It only seemed appropriate to pass on the gift to Madds. After everything he had done for them, for Duncan, he was certain she would approve. “My wife Lucy gave this to me right after we met…” MacCready explained, describing how he had lied to her, spinning dramatic tales of his past as a soldier. He had been so concerned over losing her if she knew the truth.

Madds stood there, patiently listening, never pressing him for more than he wanted to divulge. “Mac, you had good intentions. She wouldn’t hold that against you.”

“I know, I know,” he took another deep breath, exhaling slowly before continuing. “You’ve never judged me for my past, and have done so much for me…for my family.”

Madds began to speak but MacCready kept going, the words were spilling out of him and he worried that if he stopped speaking now he may never get up the nerve again. “You have the world’s problems on your back and here you are, helping me with mine…I just want you to know how much your friendship means to me.”

Both men remained silent for a beat, just long enough for the creeping feeling of embarrassment to begin making MacCready uncomfortable. _Please say something…anything!_

“If this is special to you, then it is special to me,” Madds finally spoke. “I really appreciate that you could tell me all of that, I know how difficult it can be.”

The sounds of children laughing could be heard from somewhere outside, cutting through the serious moment. “Thank you, for hearing me out,” MacCready said, his eyes flicking down to the puddle forming under and around the other man’s feet. “I knew I was taking a chance, dumping my feelings on the table.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Mac. You’re my best friend.” Madds followed his gaze, wiggling his toes in the water. “Least we don’t have carpet.”

~*~

The sun was just beginning to peek up over the horizon when MacCready lit his cigarette. Last night had been one of a few which had been nightmare free. For once, he felt well rested.

“Mind if I join you?” Madds asked him, shuffling sleepily over to sit next to him on the couch. It was an oversized floral print affair, and although dingy it had a prominent location in the middle of the living room. MacCready suspected that even in its day, it was an ugly piece of furniture.

“Course not.” He replied, taking another long drag before passing what was left to Madds.

Despite the time he had spent in the shower the day before, his hair still lay limp and greasy on his head. _I’m gonna pour a can of handybot lube on him for this…_ MacCready thought, running his fingers through his oily hair.

“Hey…Mac?” Madds asked softly, leaning down to stub the smoldering end of the cigarette out on the floor. “About…about what you said yesterday,” he took a shaky breath and settled back into the couch. “I was hoping that what we have, that it could be more than just a friendship.”

Swallowing hard, MacCready could feel his pulse pounding in his ears while he stared straight ahead. This was it, the past few months seemed as though they had been leading up to this particular moment in time. No more waiting, no more trying to decipher those potentially intimate looks or statements. No, finally Madds had made himself crystal clear and his words sent heat pooling to his stomach.

MacCready moved to face Madds, the small space between them becoming a tangible thing that needed to be crossed. _There’s no going back after this_ , his mind warned. This wasn’t love, not yet, not as he had experienced it before. But he cared deeply for him, and whatever this was – he was ready.

Without a word, he took Madds’s chin in hand. The final push forward could have come from either of them, with Madds’s hand settling almost nervously at the nape of his neck with the first brush of their lips. MacCready’s eyes slid shut as he sought more friction, slowly mapping out the shape of Madds’s lips with his own. Hot breath met in the middle, and he savored the taste of ash from their shared addiction. In the quiet stillness of dawn, they kissed.


	10. Sit Next to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and MacCready explore their new relationship together....its smut ya'll, 90% smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to the sexy time....yaaaay! Also, thanks to everyone for their continued views and comments, it always makes my day :D

MacCready shakily drew back, lips parted and his breath coming in short pants. He felt like a man once starved abruptly presented with a feast. He reached out to caress Madds’ stubbled cheek, sliding his hand up into the dark hair, disheveled from sleep. Madds accepted the gesture with a sigh, and further emboldened, MacCready moved back in to touch those flawless lips with his own, surrendering to a slow sensual kiss.

He could feel Madds fumbling with the hem of his shirt, the smooth tips of the other man’s fingers skirting against the sensitive flesh of his stomach. Reaching down, MacCready pulled the shirt up and off, tossing it casually across the room. He was mad at himself for putting on jeans, he should be naked, they both ought to be.

Madds’ hands moved to roam freely over his lean body, brushing through the sparse patch of hair on his chest. MacCready had always been self-conscious of his small frame, there were no bulging muscles, or thick hair present, but when he saw how Madds was looking at him, he couldn’t help but moan.

“Do you like that?” Madds asked, dragging his fingertip over a hardened nipple. 

As a matter of fact, he did. There had been moments, alone in the dark, when he had touched himself there, squeezing the small nub of flesh between his own fingers. Something about Madds doing it though, elevated the simple action. “Yes.” He breathed, leaning into the touch. 

He felt his abdomen twitch, sharply contracting under Madds’ fingers as they stroked the fine line of dark hair which ran down his smooth belly. Fuck, he missed sex. He had been craving this with an intensity he hadn’t allowed himself to feel until now. He gripped Madds’ bare thigh when those teasing fingers grazed the tented fabric in the front of his pants. 

“Do you want to relocate to a bed?”

MacCready blinked, finding it progressively more difficult to focus. “Huh?” 

Madds chuckled, his lips engaging in the slow exploration of MacCready’s throat, distracting him for a moment. “Would you like to join me in my bed?” He whispered, his breath hot on MacCready’s ear. 

In response MacCready clambered to his feet, shivering when Madds reached for the zipper of his jeans, tugging at it. _Is this really happening?_ Madds was sitting on the couch wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, which now left little to the imagination, nervously fumbling with pushing MacCready’s pants down.

It took cooperation from them both, but the jeans and underwear were soon left discarded in the floor and the pair made their way to Madds’ bedroom. 

MacCready dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, his foot shaking anxiously. Madds’ heated gaze was directed at him as he crossed the room, pausing only long enough to step out of his boxers before encouraging MacCready to scoot back further on the mattress so he could join him. 

“I’ve been waiting on this for ages.” Madds told him huskily. 

“Oh yeah?” MacCready swallowed hard, he couldn’t stop the hint of nervousness in his voice. _Has he done this before?_ He didn’t fully know what to expect. Sure, the topic had come up before in conversations throughout his travels, late nights spent around a cooking fire with men getting drunk and rowdy. But it was always discussed as a joke, something that _other people_ did. 

Madds loomed over him, effectively pinning his body to the bed, and MacCready took this opportunity to study the man above him. He wanted to take everything in at once, storing away each detail, unashamed by the knowledge of what he might do with these memories later on. 

The way Madds’s dark, disordered hair, hung down; framing in his face. He concentrated his attention on the few short tendrils which clung damply to the smooth sun kissed brow, then let his gaze wander down to the fresh scar, the mark intersecting through a set of long dark lashes and ending above his cheek. _I told him to use a stimpak that day_. MacCready’s eyes flicked up, setting his heart pounding harder to see Madds watching him, an expression of hunger softening into that cool smile he had graced MacCready with on so many occasions before. 

His eyes slid back down, over the contours of the hardened jaw line and throat, lingering for a moment on a pulse beating rapidly at the base, he could almost feel it against his lips, almost taste the beads of sweat clinging to the hollow beneath. MacCready reached up, savoring the small gasp it elicited from Madds when his fingers made contact. He continued his survey, drinking in the well defined muscles of Madds’ chest, the small dark nipples, taunt and inviting. He rolled first one then the other, gently teasing at them, every sound drawn from Madds sending a pang of arousal directly to his cock. 

Taking hold of Madds’ arms, MacCready silently instructed him to switch positions; biting back a moan, his hips bucking impulsively when their cocks brushed into one another in the process. 

“I…Madds…I’ve never done anything like this.” MacCready admitted, settling against Madds’ hip. His hand moving slowly down the firm stomach beneath him. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Madds whispered, his breath hitching the lower the young mercenaries’ fingers wandered. “Neither have I.” 

“Can’t be all that tough to figure out, right?” MacCready laughed softly, nuzzling into Madds’ neck. “Least we both know our way around the equipment.” 

MacCready’s lips began to explore Madds' throat, briefly lapping at the salt coated flesh. The short coarse hairs under his fingers gave way to thicker curls, drawing his attention. He broke away with a final kiss, watching mesmerized, and almost unbearably aroused, as Madds let out a moan at that first contact with the velvety skin, his fingers slipping easily along the shaft to its base and up again, feeling a tremor run through Madds’ body. 

“Christ, Mac…that feels great.” 

Dragging his eyes away from the visual of his hand wrapped gently around the flushed cock, he looked back at Madds. His head was pressed back against a pillow, his eyes tightly shut, throat taut and, as MacCready moved his fingers again in a slow caress, Madds' back arched off of the bed, his breaths shallow and weak. 

MacCready groaned, grinding himself into the muscular thigh, he was achingly hard at this point and craved friction. He withdrew his hand, with the intent to explore further, he cupped the balls in his palm, feeling them slide freely inside the sac, running his thumb over the textured skin. In response Madds drew up his legs, parting them compliantly at the touch. 

Without hesitation, MacCready shifted over to settle between Madds’ thighs. Their cocks sliding lightly over one another, sending shock waves deep into his belly. He was aware of the sound of his own erratic breathing when he rocked his hips, dragging them together, his knees buckling when Madds enclosed them both within his fist, slick with spit and precum. 

They were both so near their breaking point, sweat glistened on Madds’ forehead, his chest. MacCready stabbed forward, thrusting into the tight embrace, feeling the delicious sensation on his cock, the hand gripping him tightly, the body bucking underneath him. In this moment nothing else existed, only their bodies rocking together, discovering something new and urged on by some baser instinct. 

“I’m so close.” He heard himself whisper. 

MacCready bore down, his pace increasing, racing towards an inevitable conclusion. That familiar intense rush flooded his senses as his body took control, he moaned softly, cum spilling over Madds' cock, coating them both. MacCready became aware, gradually, of the harsh breathing echoing his own, he was slumped over Madds’ body, barely able to stay upright. While he felt too boneless to move, he managed to drop back alongside his companion, watching with rapt attention as Madds chased his own end. 

It took an extraordinary effort to tear his eyes away from the cock pumping insistently in and out of the slippery fist, but pulling back to look at Madds’ face was worth it. He was a wreck, mouth slack, eyes tightly shut and hair a mess. With a shudder, the urgent rhythm paid off, and MacCready watched cum splatter across Madds’ stomach. 

With his remaining strength, MacCready moved to lay on his back. _I suppose we will both need a shower after this_. He thought absentmindedly, staring up at the ceiling. For now, they could afford to linger a little while in the mess. 

~*~

“We only have the one fully functional set of power armor, Mac. It’s nothing personal.” 

MacCready nodded, crunching away on a handful of old cereal. They had remained in bed for the better part of the morning, well-fucked and satisfied, lazily discussing this and that before landing on the topic of the next leg of their journey; the glowing sea. 

The site of a strategically placed atomic bomb, the glowing sea was widely known to be uninhabitable to all but the most dangerous creatures. No one went near there without a death wish, but here Madds was, gearing up to walk smack into the middle of the nuclear wasteland. 

“Ya know, even if you make it back from there…you’re probably gonna be sporting a few extra eyes or something.” 

“Come on now, what even _is_ the right number of eyes?” 

MacCready gave him an unamused look, standing up from the arm of the couch he was straddling. 

“Okay okay, I’m kidding. Seriously though,” Madds stated, dropping the pack stuffed with essentials to the floor by the door. “I will be fine, this is an easy mission, it’s –”

“In and out, find the scientist then you’ll be back. I know,” MacCready interrupted. “What I _don’t_ know, is why we can’t hang back long enough to fix up a second suit of power armor. That way you won’t be on some kind of solo death march.” 

“As opposed to what? A group death march?” Madds quipped, approaching MacCready. “Listen,” he sighed. “I realize you have been with me through…a lot –”

“That’s what you’re callin it now?” 

“There isn’t time to repair more armor,” Madds said wearily. “Plus, I need you here. Preston left to check in on Abernathy Farm yesterday, you’re the best shot from here to the Capital and the only one I would trust to watch over this place while he is away.” 

MacCready wasn’t born yesterday, he knew Madds was trying to placate him, but he wasn’t one to turn down a compliment, especially in regards to his skills as a marksman. “I guess you’re right.” 

~*~

The two men sat outside, quietly smoking on a bench that overlooked a small field of corn. The settlers went about their daily lives around them, with Madds chatting amicably to any who paused to say hello. 

“You alright?” MacCready asked, flicking ash to the ground. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Madds mumbled. “Just…thinking.” 

“Sounds painful.” 

Madds snorted, crushing the cigarette out under the toe of his boot. “Prick.” 

With a laugh, MacCready nudged the man sitting next to him with his knee. He enjoyed these little moments, the sarcastic banter between friends. This was normal, _as normal as things can ever be._

“When I was in Kellogg’s memories…I had to watch him kill Nora all over again.” 

MacCready cast his eyes down, focusing intently on a small beetle scurrying past their feet. “That’s terrible, I…can’t imagine having to relive something like that.” _What do you say in situation like this? ‘Sorry you had to watch your wife be murdered for a second time.’_

Madds waved his hand glibly. “It was as unpleasant as it sounds, but the whole thing was very…odd,” he mused, stretching his arm out and laying it along the back of the bench behind MacCready’s shoulders. “To some extent, it was as if I were seeing the events for the first time.” 

MacCready gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

“Everything played out just like I remember it. But then…certain details didn’t line up, the color of her hair, how many people were present, it was so dimly lit…”

A couple holding hands with their small child strolled past, stopping to speak briefly with Madds regarding the completion of upgrades to the current water purifier. MacCready let the cigarette butt fall to the ground, watching while it smoldered and died out. 

“I bet the differences have to do with using only a little bitty piece of that merc’s brain,” MacCready reassured him after the family walked away. “Not to mention it had to be plugged into that _synth_ to work.” 

“Valentine.” Madds corrected. 

He didn’t respond. 

“You know, you’re probably right,” Madds gave MacCready’s shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry for dumping that on you…it’s just been on my mind since it happened.” 

MacCready adjusted his hat, turning on the bench to face Madds. “There’s no need to apologize, you can always talk to me.” 

A fond smile played on Madds’ lips, his hand dropping to rest on MacCready’s knee. “Why are you so good to me?” He asked, the rhetorical question hanging unanswered between them. 

“Don’t start things you can’t finish, old man.” MacCready grumbled, the thumb caressing his leg leading him to try and subtly adjust himself through his jeans. _Suddenly I’m a horny teenager again._ He thought, groaning inwardly. Much to his dismay, Madds removed his hand, mumbling apologies and reaching down to cinch the pack shut which sat by his feet. 

“I need to get going…” Madds announced, getting up and walking purposefully over to the suit of power armor standing on guard next to them. 

MacCready remained seated, his gaze flicking over Madds’ face. In an instant the suit hissed shut, obstructing the other man from view. He struggled to maintain a neutral expression, the idea of Madds gallivanting across the glowing sea, alone. It didn’t sit well with him. MacCready took a measured breath, staring calmly at the helmet. “Be careful out there, boss.” 


	11. Who Goes There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds is away and Mac has been left in charge of overseeing things back in Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it :) 
> 
> I realize we have been following fairly close to cannon for the most part so far, that will not be the case for very much longer haha.

Time, it seemed, was moving at a snail’s pace; hours gave way to days, which in turn led to weeks without a sign of Madds returning. After studying a map of the Commonwealth and the surrounding areas, MacCready surmised that the hike alone, not counting the days it could take to locate the missing scientist, would take approximately a week. While it had been three times as long at this point, he wasn’t particularly worried, yet.

Several days earlier Preston returned from his extended stay at the farm south of Sanctuary, but only remained in town long enough to confirm that MacCready had things under control. Afterwards the senior officer had recruited a rather feisty woman, Cait, to travel with him. They were headed for a potential settlement locale, one which was currently inhabited by a fleet of Mr. Handy robots. The idea seemed mildly ridiculous, however, MacCready had wished the pair ‘good luck.’

“Doris…” MacCready sighed. “How the hell did a brahmin even get up there?” He stood squinting up at the pack animal, one of the cow’s two heads bellowed nervously down at them. He could only speculate as to how it had managed to wind up perched precariously on a rooftop, much less how they would get it back down again.

“Clearly it didn’t just will itself onto the roof.” MacCready sarcastically interjected when the woman failed to respond. 

“I guess it _could_ have snuck up there last night,” Doris explained. “Sturges and I were making repairs to the roof and may have left the ramp down…”

 _Are these the sorts of issues Madds has to deal with on a day to day, or am I just special?_ He wondered, massaging the bridge of his nose, trying to block out the chatter from the small crowd now gathering around. _I suppose this is the most exciting thing to happen around here lately…_

“Hey, Sturges!?” MacCready shouted, he could see the town’s ‘handyman’ tinkering at a workbench across the street. “We could really use a little help here!” 

He watched the overall clad man leisurely make his way towards them. “What seems to be the problem, M’Cready?” Sturges drawled, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag. 

The brahmin bellowed again from above them and MacCready blinked slowly in response. 

~*~

The blurry room came slowly into focus, a sliver of moonlight cut through the otherwise dark space allowing him something to grasp onto. _Why am I awake?_ MacCready thought groggily. 

KNOCK KNOCK 

He groaned, untangling himself from the sheet. “Hang on…” 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“I said Hang ON!” He yelled. The pounding at the front door stopped abruptly, whoever was causing the commotion seemed to have heard him. 

MacCready stumbled down the hall, trying to wrestle into his pants as he went. “What the fu—agh, what the hell’s going on!?” he snarled, yanking open the door. 

The anxious face of Sanctuaries repairman stared back at him out of the entry way, his normally coifed hair mussed from sleep. “M’Cready, it’s the –”

“Sturges?!” MacCready blurted out. _If it’s another goddamn brahmin on the roof…_

“It’s the Sinclair girl, she’s missing – somebody took her – must’ve happened earlier in the night.” He rambled on. 

MacCready’s face dropped. The Sinclair’s were a family of four on the outer edge of town; a widow and her three children. On occasion he took the younger two out for target practice. Without a response he waved Sturges inside. 

“Who noticed her missing? Why do you think she was taken?” He asked, snatching his green shirt down from a cabinet knob in the kitchen. _Maybe she just snuck out, she’s practically grown…we’ll probably find her bedded down in one of the empty houses, snoggin with some guy._

Sturges paced near the door, occasionally peering out into the darkened street. “One of the boys, said he heard a noise, when he went to check on her she was gone.” 

“Couldn’t she have snuck out on her own?” 

“Bedroom window’s smashed open.” 

MacCready slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed a handful of extra rounds off an old dinette. _Better safe than sorry._ He was still cinching a belt around his narrow waist when they stepped outside. 

~*~

Multiple sets of foot prints were stamped into the soft soil, their direction leading off towards the wilderness and away from town. MacCready lowered the lantern closer to the shattered window, he didn’t need to touch the dark stain smeared across the splintered glass to know what it was, it’s presence alone made him grit his teeth. Whoever or _whatever_ had done this clearly struggled to extract the girl from her room, afterwards it appeared that at least three individuals had fled the area on foot. 

Sturges and Mrs. Sinclair stood nearby, speaking in hushed whispers, mindful not to let their voices carry. He approached them, the light he was holding distorting their features. “Sturges, I agree with you, this looks like an abduction,” he admitted, wincing at the choked sob that escaped the middle aged woman. “We need to act quickly, they’re already a few hours ahead of us.” 

“Just lemme grab my shotgun and I’m ready.”

MacCready shook his head. “I need you to stay here. We don’t know if they’ll come back, this could have been the first strike…maybe even a trick to draw us away.” 

“You think they might be out there, right now?” Mrs. Sinclair asked, fear creeping into her voice. 

“I can’t say for sure –” 

“You’re actually suggestin’ going after them alone then?” Sturges interrupted. 

For all of Sturges’ quirks, pompadour hairstyle included, MacCready couldn’t dislike him. The man had a simple charm and was always available for a lighthearted chat or to lend a hand around town. While he didn’t doubt Sturges’ abilities with a gun, he couldn’t waste precious time and energy looking after the guy out in the field. 

MacCready forced a smile, trying his best to look reassuring. “Don’t worry, this isn’t my first solo venture. I’ll make better time alone.” 

“If you say so.” 

“Yeah well, I do.” MacCready handed the lantern over. “Sun’s coming up, I won’t be able to use this when I get close to them,” he said, motioning towards the light peaking over the horizon. “You need to gather the patrol together and keep a close eye on the perimeter while I’m gone.” 

Sturges pursed his lips, but he nodded. 

“Please…please bring her b…back…” Mrs. Sinclair was gripping the front of his duster, her face twisted from grief and the bobbing lantern in Sturges’ hand. 

Before he could open his mouth to speak, Sturges had taken the distraught woman gently by her shoulders and was guiding her away, mumbling words of comfort. 

~*~

He brought the small strip of off-white paper to his mouth, running his tongue over the edge and then rolling it shut. The cigarette joined a pile of several others on the remains of a children’s school desk. Prewar packs could still be found, with old vending machines littering the country. But finding any worth smoking wasn’t always reliable and something about taking the time to roll his own was oddly therapeutic. 

MacCready shuffled the newly crafted paper sticks into a used pack. He had followed the trail left by the kidnappers for well over a day, only stopping long enough to catch a few hours of sleep when it became too dark to follow the messy tracks. 

It was strange, travelling alone. The practice had never been a problem in the past, in fact, he had always preferred it. Companions only slowed you down, unless it was a ‘babysitting’ job, as he considered it, solo work was the ideal way to go. 

How things had changed over these past months. _Months..._ He scratched the stubble on his chin, it had to be practically a year at this point. Would Madds come back to Sanctuary before he returned with the girl? Perhaps. His pulse quickened at the idea of striding back into town, the Sinclair girl in tow, the look of admiration and _something else_ on Madds’ face when they saw each other. 

_C’mon Mac, focus…_

Pushing those thoughts aside, he gathered his gear and stepped out of the ruined school house he had taken shelter in overnight. The early morning air was humid, leaving dew settled over the irradiated grass as he skirted the edge of what once was likely a bustling town. 

The splintered remains of homes dotted the landscape for several blocks, with the occasional mailbox jutting out of the earth destined to guard letters which would never be sent. 

MacCready moved swiftly, scanning the ground for signs of the party he was tailing. The last footprints he had found weren’t particularly fresh and time was of the essence. If raiders were responsible for the abduction, it was possible the girl could be sold off to another faction. Slavery wasn’t unheard of these days and tracking her if she switched hands could prove difficult. 

A partial boot print in the soil caught his eye, leading him between a row of houses. Decomposing flesh, the smell hit him long before he saw anything out of the ordinary and he stifled a retch. _What in the hell is that?_ He wondered, easing the rifle down into his hands and stalking forward to peer around the front of the homes. 

_Gotcha_. MacCready knelt down in the dirt, concealing his presence by hugging the brick foundation. A raider sat only 100 yards away, dozing at his post in front of what appeared to be an electrical substation, a kill shot clearly visible from this vantage point. He gently clicked the safety off, settling the butt of the rifle firmly against his shoulder. 

Mutilated corpses served as a macabre backdrop to the raider caught in his crosshairs. _Explains the smell_. He thought darkly, staring through the scope at the small encampment. The remains of the unlucky individuals had been strung up on poles and tied to chain link fencing, an obvious warning for intruders to think twice about approaching. _Freaking raiders…_

MacCready never heard the footsteps approach, it was only when several globs of hot fluid drooled down onto the back of his neck did he lower the rifle, giving the creature looming over him a startled look. 

“Well, _this_ is not good.” He muttered under his breath. 

The slavering maw of an enormous deathclaw hovered over him, its claws gripping the wooden panels of the porch it was perched on and as if in response the wood creaked from the strain. 

He remained motionless, trying not to panic. The large reptile-like abomination squinted down at him in what one might personify as confusion. MacCready wondered briefly if it too had been lured here by the raiders…albeit due to the pungent odor of decaying bodies rather than missing girls. 

MacCready knew full well there was no way he was taking on a giant deathclaw alone, at close range, and coming out alive, much less with all of his limbs intact. So, he did the only thing that made sense in a situation like this; run like hell. 

~*~

The surge of adrenaline carried him swiftly out from under the nose of the beast and towards the raider camp. A guttural roar rang out behind him and he forced his legs to push harder, gaining momentum with each step. The ground shook as the deathclaw gave chase, its feet pounding heavily across the soil and MacCready stumbled, lurching forward to regain his footing, _don’t trip don’t trip…_

At this point he was close enough to see the horrified expression on the raiders face. _This is one hell of a wake up call._ The armor clad man scrambled to his feet, knocking the folding chair back before turning to run. MacCready quickly caught up to him, the situation feeling mildly comical despite the very real danger present. Both men gave each other a panicked glance as they raced along through the camp. 

MacCready’s lungs were beginning to burn from the exertion, and his legs ached. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this brutal pace but the thud of the large reptile behind them seemed to grow closer with each footfall. A pile of old tires was scattered ahead on the ground which caused him to swerve. Then he had an idea. 

“S—sorry about this!” MacCready shouted, slamming his shoulder into the raider, checking him into the tires. 

His breath was coming in short gasps as he leapt over an old car axle, pivoting on the spot to dive inside an old pulowski preservation shelter. The blue cylindrical door clanged shut, its poorly constructed frame failing to block out the pained screeching coming from the raider outside. MacCready panted, sliding down the wall to collapse in heap on the floor. 

The screams cut off abruptly and he took that as a sign to try and steady his breathing, if he could hear through the walls then it wasn’t unreasonable to think it might be able to hear him as well. 

Several tense hours were spent in the pulowski chamber listening to all manner of wet crunching sounds floating in through the thin walls. MacCready shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to ease the cramp in his legs. _How was someone supposed to stay in these damn things for any length of time?_ He wondered bitterly, massaging his calves. 

~*~

MacCready woke with a start, banging his head painfully into a rusted wall. _What the fu—._ The days earlier events came flooding back and he immediately stilled, fearful that his thrashing may have given away his position. The air in capsule was hot and sticky, and he ignored a bead of sweat running lazily down the side of his face while he listened for a sign that the creature was still out there. 

Nothing could be heard but the sound of his own breathing. His whole body ached from the earlier run and sleeping in an unnatural position, plus he needed to take a piss. He rose stiffly and pressed the button on the wall. The door slid open to reveal a street devoid of any deathclaws, and MacCready let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

He stretched, relishing the ability to move around freely and stumbled a few steps in the direction of the camp. _Definitely hiding somewhere with more leg space next time_. He noted, pausing briefly behind a wall.

A new guard had taken up the post in front of the old substation entrance, this one was awake but clearly on edge. MacCready put a round between his eyes, watching through the scope as the raiders head snapped back and he dropped to the ground. 

“Too easy…” he murmured. 

No other patrols were encountered while he made his way to the entrance, which allowed him the opportunity to loot the dead guard. _Madds would be proud_. 

Taking a last glance around him to ensure he wasn’t being watched, he wrenched open the door to the substation and slipped inside. 


	12. Bodies and Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is still hunting for a missing woman and Madds has yet to return.

MacCready’s boot came down hard onto the raider’s throat, effectively putting an end to the man’s frantic squirming. He had failed to check his corners when proceeding into the room, his focus being on a conveniently open floor hatch near the far wall, the result of this oversight was a badly broken nose. 

The center of his face throbbed, the crushed cartilage now a source of white hot pain that would not stop bleeding. MacCready pressed his sleeve into his nose and swore under his breath. He knew he couldn’t afford more mistakes like that, not if he wanted to get back home. _Home._ Where was that anymore? Was it still his homestead back in the Capital, or was it the little town of Sanctuary? 

_Focus!_

He sighed, taking a deep breath and grounding himself in the moment. 

~*~

Climbing down the narrow tunnel was unnerving, he half expected to feel the cold muzzle of a gun press into his back when he made it to the bottom of the ladder. Upon reaching the floor he found the adjoining compartment free of guards, nothing greeted him but a poorly lit hallway. _Where the hell’s everybody at?_

He took care to make as little noise as possible while making his way through the maze of passages, taking advantage of a rumbling generator to help muffle his steps. The main hall branched off at multiple intervals, though none looked promising. _Processing, Controls & Maintenance, MC Room…_ MacCready scanned the placards while he crept along, finally deciding to follow his current path to the end, then check each branch individually on the return trip.

A man coughed up ahead and MacCreadys decision to press himself back between a network of pipes and crisscrossed metal lines came none-too-soon, as a shaggy haired man garbed in leathers rounded the corner, shuffling past his hiding place. 

Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, MacCready swiftly rushed out, closing one hand over the man’s mouth and grabbing the side of his head with the other. In a single quick motion, he snapped the raiders neck; ignoring how the man’s final breath was hot against his hand. He pulled the body across the floor, tucking it into his previous hiding place before continuing down the hallway. 

The generator abruptly stopped and the sounds of voices echoed back to him from further down the main passageway. Taking his rifle in his hands, he thumbed the safety off and stalked forward, even if the Sinclair girl wasn’t here the Commonwealth could use fewer raider dens. 

“No! Please!” a man shouted sarcastically, his voice reverberating harshly off of the metal walls. 

MacCready slunk down a side path, hugging the wall as he went. The voices grew louder and the passageway opened up to reveal a small store room. He moved to duck down behind several metal drums of oil, peering between them at the gruesome scene. There were at least ten raiders crowded into the tight space along with two women, but even from this vantage point he could tell one of them was dead, her bloodied form twisted unnaturally on the floor. 

His eyes rested for a time on her blonde hair, its dirty strands splayed out around her shoulders. He knew that hair, she shared the trait with her mother. His fingers tightened around the gun in his hands. 

“You can’t do this!” The surviving woman cried out. She stood on trembling legs, partially nude with her hands tied to a support beam behind her back. 

“Sure I can,” a raider standing closest to her retorted, nodding at the dead girl in the floor. “Done it plenty of times before.” 

MacCready watched the raider grab something off of a table, a screwdriver, the shank was blackened before the man ever laid it onto the burner of a portable stove. His stomach twisted into a knot, there were too many of them to take out one by one, he needed a plan and quick. 

“Please! I’ll do anything!” 

“Oh, I know what you’ll do,” the raider approached her slowly, screwdriver in hand. “Scream, twitch, cry, kick, beg, drool…bleed,” he laughed sadistically and the surrounding crowd chuckled in approval. “Not necessarily in that order, of course.” 

Giving a shout MacCready knocked the barrels of oil over, spilling the contents across the floor and onto several of the raiders in the room. With a flick of his wrist he lit a match, tossing it into the fray. The resulting pandemonium was a blur of screams and movement, burning bodies flailed around the room, slamming into others and igniting them. 

He rushed into the chaos, dodging the screeching men and grabbed a knife. “When I get you untied, run!” MacCready told the frightened woman while sawing away at her bindings. The rope fell away and she fled from the room. He crouched down, checking the pulse of the Sinclair girl. _Nothing._ He coughed, the room was filling with a suffocating black smoke and stunk of chemicals and burning flesh. 

_I can’t just leave her here…_

A man crashed into him, nearly knocking him down. “Get off!” He growled, burning his hands when shoving the raider away. Without another thought, he gathered the girl’s body into his arms and ran. 

~*~

The bedraggled pair sat in relative silence in an old convenience store, the young woman clothed in his duster. MacCready had made certain to put distance between them and the substation before stopping to rest; he wasn’t worried about the raiders, he had jammed the lock to the tunnel hatch…they would never leave that hell hole, but the idea of bumping back into the deathclaw didn’t appeal to him. 

Everything hurt, but he handed the stimpak over to the young woman. _It’s what Madds would do._

“I...I don’t know what to do with this…” She said nervously. 

MacCready gave her an incredulous look, tilting his head. “You’ve never used a stimpak? At your age?” 

“Never…what does it do?”

“Fixes you…err heals you,” he gestured to the nasty gash on her temple. “It’ll help with that.” 

She lightly touched her fingers to the wound. “How do I use it?” 

“I can do it for you…if you want me to. Its an injection, goes in a muscle.” 

She nodded, presenting her bare arm to him. 

_How’s somebody get to be her age and never need a stimpak?_

He uncapped the needle, sliding it gently into her bicep and pressed the plunger down. “It works pretty quickly.” 

She rubbed her arm when he pulled the needle out, thanking him with a smile. 

“So, how’d you wind up with those raiders?” he asked, glancing over at the body bundled in a tarp nearby. “Did they pick you up?” 

“Yes, I was travelling with a couple and we were ambushed. They took me with them…I don’t know how many days I was down there before they brought the other girl in…” she took a ragged breath, pulling her knees up under her chin. “I…I…it was so terrible…”

MacCready patted her back reassuringly, staring straight ahead. “Where were you headed? Maybe our settlement can help you get there.” _Our settlement…_

“Old North Church. There is a group there who can help me.” 

“Then we’ll make sure you get to them.” 

~*~ 

This wasn’t how he pictured his return to Sanctuary. Every step was agony, between strained muscles, blistered hands, his nose being a swollen purple mess, and that the young woman trotting along at his side wasn’t the Sinclair girl. No, this wasn’t how it should have been at all. 

He felt his stomach drop when Sturges’ voice called out to him from behind a small watch post on the hill, looked on as the cheerful man leapt from his post and sprinted down to them, his face falling the closer he got. 

“Was startin to worry ‘bout ya!” Sturges exclaimed. “M’Cready…” he looked to the woman, then to MacCready and the small bundle strapped to a makeshift stretcher he had been dragging. Sturges swallowed hard and nodded, placing a hand firmly onto MacCready’s shoulder. “You brought her back.” 

~*~

“Christ…” MacCready whispered, staring into a mirror and prodding his freshly healed nose. It was definitely crooked, but that wasn’t terribly surprising. He had gone too long between the injury and a stimpak, the only remedy at this point would be to rebreak and set it, then do a second stimpak. The idea made his skin crawl. 

Thankfully Sturges had stepped in again to assist with consoling Mrs. Sinclair, who while actively distraught, seemed to be taking some solace in helping the young woman he had rescued. She was putting the girl up in her home for the time being, and Sturges had returned his duster earlier that afternoon. 

MacCready stripped, showered, and wandered through the empty house, enjoying the way the surrounding air cooled his damp skin. He made his way to the dresser in Madds’ room, _he won’t mind if I borrow some more clothes_ , he thought to himself, opening drawers and digging through random articles of clothing. 

His fingers brushed against something other than fabric, an old polaroid, tucked away under some kind of paper liner in the bottom of the drawer. He brought it out and studied the photo. A young couple beamed happily back from the faded moment, the man’s brown hair was piled in soft curls atop his head. MacCready turned it over to read the smudged script on the back. _Neilson’s 2077_. 

He slid the photo back into its previous hiding place, grabbed a pair of pants and slid the drawer shut. _I always assumed this was his house before the bombs dropped._

With a grunt he collapsed onto Madds’ bed with the pants in hand. He didn’t _have_ to go back out today, the room was growing dark as the sun set outside, what would the point be in getting dressed at this point? He turned his head to the side, inhaling deeply. He could still smell Madds here; a mixture of sweat, musk, and something that was uniquely him.

He laid there in the room, watching the shadows lengthen across the floor. “Where the hell are you, boss?” He mumbled. It had been close to a month at this point since Madds had stormed off in that clunky suit of armor. MacCready sighed, making up his mind to set out the next day to look for him. Sanctuary would be fine, they had Sturges, and Preston would be back any day now. 

MacCready rolled over onto his stomach, shifting his hips and groaning at the friction caused by the rough sheets. That familiar heat pooled deep in his belly and his cock twitched, straining for further sensation. He let his eyes slip closed and sorted through his memories for something to think of while he did this. 

_Madds looming over him, that look burning into him as the older man dipped down to suck on his neck. The gruff moans Madds let spill out while being touched._ MacCready whined, pushing the pillow resting by his head down and knelt over it, sliding his neglected cock back and forth. _Going to have to wash this before he gets back_ … He mused, smearing precum across the fabric. 

He rested onto his elbows, taking up a lazy rhythm with his hips. _Nowhere to be, nothing to watch out for…_ He knew he could take his time, there was no reason not to draw this out. 

The pillow brushed against his leaking cock, sending flashes of hot pleasure up his spine. “Madds…” he cried out fucking into the pillow. 

“Fucking hell, Mac…” 

MacCready’s hips stuttered, his body desperate to continue its race towards completion regardless. He remained motionless, ass up and mid-hump on the bed, before he looked casually over his shoulder at the man standing in the doorway to the little bedroom. 

He wanted to say something collected and cool, something that distracted from his face flushed red with embarrassment, but all that came out was a raspy - “hey.” 

“Hey to you too,” Madds replied thickly, taking a step towards him. “Want some company? – Or I can leave and let you finish…” He added with a chuckle. 

MacCready shot him a look, scrambling to sit on the bed. “What do you think?” He quipped, stuffing the abused pillow into his lap to preserve whatever he thought was left of his modesty. 

“Now don’t be like that,” Madds said, shrugging his heavy coat to the floor. “Come here.” 

MacCready exhaled sharply. Those words sent another jolt of something hot right to his cock, making it jerk beneath the pillow. He awkwardly stood up and approached the other man, feeling shy under Madds’ intense gaze. 

“You are so beautiful.” Madds breathed, reaching out to trail his fingers over MacCready’s collarbone. 

He whimpered under the touch, grabbing Madds’ shirt collar and pulling him in for a rough kiss, all tongues and teeth. When they finally broke apart with a gasp he felt himself being guided until his back pressed firmly into the wall, the paneling cool against his heated flesh. 

“Let me take care of you.” Madds whispered, giving him a parting kiss on the lips before kneeling down. Madds pressed soft kisses on the skin of his hips, running his fingers down MacCready’s torso, his stubble brushing roughly against the younger man’s inner thighs. What felt like minutes of teasing was beginning to become unbearable and MacCready gently bucked forward into the air. 

“You really got the party started without me…” Madds teased, pressing his lips to the base of MacCready’s weeping cock. 

“Oh…god…” MacCready gave a choke of pleasure as Madds licked firmly up the length of his cock, sucking softly as he reached the tip. 

“You like that?” Madds asked, swirling his tongue. 

MacCready nodded, digging his nails into the wall behind him. 

Madds wrapped his hand around MacCready’s cock, tugging him gently as he worked in tandem with his mouth. 

The wet heat of Madds’ mouth combined with his hand was pulling him in, draining what little control he had left. MacCready moaned, trying to keep his voice down. Wouldn’t do to have the night patrol investigating unusual sounds. 

-creak-

MacCready was watching with rapt attention at how Madds was working him, mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared between the man’s perfect lips. 

-creak-

_What the hell is that?_

He looked up. A shadow passed quickly through the dark hallway and MacCready’s eyes widened. 

“Boss…”

Madds groaned around the swollen tip and MacCready’s hips thrust forward of their own accord. 

“B-boss I’m serious, stop…stop!” He hissed through clenched teeth, pushing Madds off of him. 

“Wha…what’s wrong?” 

“Someone’s in the house.” 


	13. When a Stranger Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds finally makes it back to Sanctuary. 'Excellent timing' MacCready might add. There's someone in the house, but who? And what do they want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I cannot apologize enough for my absence! Unfortunately, August - October tend to be my busiest times of year at work, and this year was no exception. However, I should be back to a normal posting schedule moving forward. I really appreciate everyone's patience and continued support!

“Holy shit!” Wheezing, Madds picked himself up off the floor.

MacCready’s eyes widened, he hurried to pull on a pair of boxers in an almost comical attempt to render himself less vulnerable. Where moments before his more sensitive parts had been enveloped in the warmth of Madds’ mouth, he had now just watched his companion slide ass backwards across the floor of the bedroom.

“What the hell’s out there!?” MacCready yelped, looking around the room for a weapon, _any_ weapon. The weeks spent within the relative safety of the settlements’ borders had clearly had an effect on him, and he silently cursed himself for leaving his rifle on the other side of the house.

As if in response a beam of light cut a harsh line through the shadows, followed by the loud crash of someone or _something_ knocking over furniture down the hall.

“Some guy,” Madds ducked down, retrieving an old pistol from underneath a dresser. “And he’s pissed off.”

MacCready crept forward slowly, wrapping a leather belt around his fist. His pulse pounded loudly in his ears, the rhythmic thud increasing in frequency as he peered around the frame of the door, only to be met with darkness and silence. _Where’re you hiding?_

“Where’s your gun?” Madds hissed, yanking him back into the room.

“Leaning against couch.” MacCready wrenched away from the other mans grasp, earning himself an irritated look in return.

“Follow me.”

The metallic click of the pistols safety punctuated Madds’ command.

Tightening his fist around the leather strap MacCready slipped quietly behind Madds into the hallway.

_Can’t be a raid…settlement’s too quiet for that…maybe somebody followed Madds back from the Glowing Sea?_ MacCready strained to hear something outside of he and Madds’ own cautious footsteps on the cracked linoleum.

Moonlight streamed across the space opening up ahead of them, creating deep shadows which MacCready noted were perfect for an intruder to hide amongst. The men paused at the entrance to the main room, and the young mercenary sidled to his right, his eyes locked on the glint of steel propped casually against an aging sofa.

“Steady.” Madds ordered.

MacCready grit his teeth. _I can make it._ He scanned the room. _I can make it, just four…maybe five steps._

Madds shifted next to him, nudging purposely against his arm. “I _said_ steady.”

Somewhere near the kitchen the floor creaked. In an instant MacCready darted forward, he heard Madds swear angrily behind him, felt the man’s fingertips grapple for purchase unsuccessfully at his shoulder, but none of that mattered, two more steps and the rifle would be in his hands.

The tattered sofa launched into the air, flying end over end before abruptly ending its journey against the wall. MacCready barely had time to register the scene and skidded quickly to a stop, having been nearly clipped by the summersaulting furniture.

“Target not identified.”

A stranger stood where the couch once was, tall and clad in black leather, his expression neutral while he stared back at MacCready with a look that could be described as one of complete disinterest.

“Just who do you think you are and what the _hell_ are you doing in here?”

“Stay out of the way civilian…”

“What’re you all hyped up chems or something? Coming in here –”

Before he could finish his sentence, a shot rang out, reverberating loudly off of the walls.

Seizing this opportunity, MacCready rushed forward, intending to pummel the man into the ground and give Madds an opportunity for a kill shot.

“Look pal, you've picked the wrong freaking house!”

Instead of riding the man to the floor as intended, he found himself crashing through a partially boarded window and landing outside covered in debris. Raucous sounds of a struggle resounded from the living room behind him, there was shouting and gunfire. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. _How’s that even possible? Asshole tossed me like ragdoll…_

He struggled to orient himself, wincing when slivers of glass dug into his hands and knees. _Really should have pulled on pants…_ The telltale whirr of a laser weapon sent him dropping back down again, narrowly dodging a beam of energy which came so close that MacCready was sure he could smell his own singed hair. After a moment he started to slowly rise back up when he felt something graze the back of his head as it passed over.

With a sickening thud Madds collided with the asphalt, his head bouncing on contact.

“Madds!” MacCready’s stomach dropped at the sight. Before he could react further, the leather clad man dropped down in front of him, leaping from the open window in pursuit.

Without a second thought MacCready lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s legs in an attempt to drag him down. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he looked up in time to meet the barrel of a laser pistol staring down at him.

“What’s all this commotion about?!”

The beam from a flashlight fell weakly on the pair, drawing the attention and direction of the gun off of MacCready and towards a settler unfortunate enough to emerge from his home.

“Get back inside!” MacCready screamed. With a mechanical hum, a red light streaked through the darkness to meet its target, and he watched in dismay as the flashlight clattered to the ground. _The night guard should have been here by now._

__

__

MacCready’s leg brushed against something sharp and he reached for it, quickly plunging a thick shard of glass into the thigh of his attacker. The counter came swiftly, he felt the brutal blow of the pistols muzzle colliding with his face and fell back seeing stars.

“Would you like to cooperate, civilian?” The stranger asked, turning to look down at the injured young man at his feet.

“You can’t be serious.” MacCready groaned, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the ground. His jaw was quickly swelling and he was honestly surprised that the blow hadn’t knocked any of his teeth loose.

The man disregarded his quip. “I am looking for a fugitive, they are runaway Institute property. Tell me where the synth is.”

Floored by the demand, MacCready would have laughed had it not been for the circumstances. “A synth? Look around, pal. We don’t have any of those tin cans running around here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You have the wrong settlement.” MacCready ground out. This guy was off his rocker if he thought they were employing the use of _androids_ here in town. His eyes flicked to the gun in the man’s grasp, he would have to move fast to gain the upper hand.

As if sensing his train of thought, the man smiled, his eerie expression sending a shiver down MacCready’s spine. “Times almost up.” He holstered the weapon just as MacCready lurched forward. In a fluid movement the man caught his wrist, wrenching him out of the way effortlessly.

A searing pain radiated through MacCready’s shoulder, and his arm now hung at an odd angle by his side. Disoriented he began to stumble away. The sun was just starting to rise on the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of red, orange, and pink. _There’s the guard._ He thought, almost casually, at the sight of the lifeless body of a woman lying next to a watch post nearby.

“Come back here.”

The words hardly registered with him and MacCready continued his sluggish march towards the communal garage. “We don’t have your synth…” he slurred, collapsing weakly to his knees.

“Suit yourself. You can die like the rest of them”

A gun cocked, but the blast never came. A beat. MacCready turned, awkwardly maneuvering himself around in order to see what was happening.

“Sturges…what took you so long?” MacCready asked, smiling with a mouthful of blood.

“Was havin a right pleasant dream,” The normally friendly mechanics eyes never left their assailant, his shotgun trained for a headshot. “You look like shit, M’Cready. Who’s this guy?”

“N…no idea, just end him would ya?”

“Sure thin—”

“B3-86, initialize factory reset.”

“Huh?” The shotgun faltered as a look of horrified recognition passed over Sturges’ face. “No, please…stop!”

“Sturges? What’s the – just shoot him!”

“Authorization code sigma-4-8-epsilon.”

MacCready watched dumfounded as his friend crumpled to the ground, Sturges stared blankly up to the sky, his expression the picture of calm.

“Sturges…” MacCready practically whined. His mind was spinning, what was going on? Nothing made sense. He remained motionless, rooted in place while the scene unfolded in front of him.

The strange man reached into his trench coat, removing a device small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He attached it to Sturges’ shirt and pressed a button.

To MacCready it seemed as if both men began to shimmer, much in the same way that asphalt rippled and waved in the distance on a hot afternoon. _I’ve gotta be dreaming…maybe I’ve blacked out._ He was mildly aware of settlers exiting their homes to investigate all the activity, as well as the brown blur racing towards them.

In a flurry of movement, Dogmeat crashed into the stranger knocking him to the ground. Whatever was occurring as a result of that device no longer had an effect on their attacker and the weird undulations ceased, for him anyway. As for Sturges, with a sharp snap he was gone.

~*~

“Christ, Mac. You look like a deathclaw used you as a chew toy”

MacCready only huffed in response, leaning gingerly against Madds in the infirmary. He was still shaken up from the ordeal and in a significant amount of pain. The last hour had been a complete blur, he watched as the woman he had brought back from the raiders den stood over the body of the stranger, a smoking gun held firmly in her trembling hands, heard the wails of family members finding their loved ones gunned down at the edges of town. In the end when he had looked up to find Madds standing there, hand outstretched to help him to his feet, he nearly broke down.

“Thought you were dead…”

“Shh, no. I’m fine. Just a nasty bump to the head is all,” Madds ran his fingers lightly through MacCready’s hair, picking splinters of wood from the tangled mess. “Nothing a stimpak couldn’t fix.”

Suddenly a short statured woman with greying hair bustled into the room, she wore a tightlipped smile and a faded white coat. Nadine Zhou looked every part the doctor, as much as one could anyway in this day and age.

“As I’m sure you’re aware Mr. MacCready, your arm is dislocated.”

It took every ounce of self-restraint, including his promise to Duncan, not to respond coldly with ‘no shit’ at her declaration.

She continued without batting an eye at his silence. “As such, I cannot administer a stimpak until after we have the shoulder back in its socket.”

MacCready shifted uneasily on the bench, and in response Madds gave his hip a reassuring squeeze. He had seen the _procedure_ performed more than once, almost always in the field and by untrained hands. Regardless of the span of time that went by, it was hard to forget those kinds of screams.

The woman bent down next to him, adjusting her glasses to take a better look.

His shoulder was swollen and he cradled the affected hand tightly against his stomach, unable to stop the whimper which escaped while the doctor prodded at the offending appendage.

“I apologize but I need to determine if there are any bone fragments, sometimes that can happen…we would have to take additional measures if that were the case.”

MacCready said nothing, staring straight ahead. _If knives come out…Madds is gonna have to knock me over the head with something first._

“I think it is safe to say we can gently manipulate the bone back into place,” Doctor Zhou stated, finishing her examination. “Now…I need to pull your arm straight out from your body, this will not be pleasant.”

Without giving him a chance to argue, the doctor took a firm hold of his forearm, slowly stretching the arm taunt out from his side. “You need to sit still, don’t give in to me pulling. I need resistance for this to work.”

It hurt, the muscles burned in a fierce way as she gradually added more tension. MacCready’s breath came quickly, but he was determined not to make a scene. _Prick shoulda just tore the damn thing off earlier…don’t cry…don’t cry…you’re not some stupid little kid._ Somewhere above the roaring in his ears he could hear Madds mumbling words of encouragement.

Time seemed to drag on and MacCready wondered how much longer he could stand it. Moments later a strange sensation occurred, the pain dulling immensely when the bone at last nested back within the cup of his shoulder. MacCready gasped in relief, tentatively flexing his fingers after the doctor released his arm.

“Good as new.” Doctor Zhou remarked warmly.

The needle of a stimpak slid home, bringing with it all the soothing effects he so desperately needed. MacCready could feel the swelling going down in his face and instantly slumped against his companion, lazily watching the abrasions on his legs which were beginning to close up.

“Take him home Madds.”

_Home_

Caps exchanged hands and Madds snaked an arm around the young man’s waist, easing him up and away.

By the time they reached the street MacCready felt more than capable of walking the rest of the way unassisted, but there was something intimate about the gesture and he didn’t feel any need to resist it.

The pair disregarded the splintered front door, picking their way through the living room while Madds made lighthearted banter about his desire to “redecorate anyway”. He was funny like that, MacCready mused, finding himself led back into the other man’s room.

MacCready paused, observing as Madds made his way over to the bed, kicking his shoes off in the process. “So…ah the sun’s up.” 

“Is it now?” Madds joked, stripping down before flopping onto the old mattress. “I haven’t slept for somewhere around thirty-four hours at this point –” he yawned, patting his hand next to his side. “Plus, you weren’t exactly sleeping when I got here, so I figured we could take a nap.”

MacCready rolled his eyes, failing to conceal a smirk. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Would you really want to?”

MacCready flushed, he was still trying to gain his footing in this relationship. _Relationship? What would you even call this? A partnership? Are we…lovers?_ He snorted at that, and gathering his confidence he joined Madds in the bed.

“Did ya ever find Virgil?”

“Mhmm.”

“Learn anything?”

“Only what I could glean from his terminal really,” Madds slid his arm behind MacCready’s head. “He was dead when I got there.”

MacCready turned over resting his cheek on Madds’ chest. “That’s too bad.”

“Just a minor setback…” Madds mumbled groggily, trailing off.

The chatter and goings-on of the settlers outside could be heard faintly within the room, while the rise and fall of the chest beneath MacCready’s head slowly lulled him to sleep.

~*~

The room was dark again when MacCready at last opened his eyes, after having slept the day away only a dull ache in his shoulder lingered as a reminder of the events from the morning before; _What was that guy after anyways? What the hell happened to Sturges…did he kill him? How’d he just disappear like that?_

The body behind him stirred, its owner’s arm tightening possessively around his waist, drawing him back snug against them. This was certainly different, MacCready thought, he had never been the little spoon before, but it felt nice to lay here wrapped in Madds’ arms. His companion’s left leg lazily draped itself over his hip, and there was no denying the outline of flesh which was now pressed firmly into his ass.

“Good morning.” Madds murmured huskily into the nape of the younger man’s neck, dragging his lips over sensitive skin.

MacCready took a deep breath, shifting awkwardly at the sensation of liquid heat rushing to his groin. “It’s definitely not morning.”

“Minor details.”

“Seems to me that you might be losing touch, old man.”

Madds chuckled, nipping lightly at MacCready’s earlobe in response. “Dick.”

_I missed you, missed this…_

When MacCready turned his head to face Madds, Madds slid his tongue between his lips, pressing a slow rhythm into his mouth. MacCready moaned in the back of his throat, it couldn’t be helped; Turning over to lean fully into the kiss. Their weeks apart did nothing to diminish his desire for the vault dweller, and judging from the way Madds was devouring his lips, the period had been equally frustrating for him as well. Teasing little laps were followed by hungry bites and Madds sucking on his tongue.

Madds pulled back, looking him over, there was fire in his gaze. “Shit Mac, I would love nothing more than to fuck you right now.”

MacCready groaned when Madds gripped his cock through the thin layer of fabric. He didn’t respond, only flushed red, and averted his eyes. He could picture the scene, being held on his hands and knees and fucked till he moaned Madds’ name.

“I found some helpful old magazines stashed in a house while I was gone.”

Raising an eyebrow, MacCready gave him a befuddled expression.

“I mean they were mostly full of pictures…but the articles were entertaining as well.” Madds continued, clearly enjoying the confusion on MacCready’s face. “Picked up some fun ideas I’d like to try sometime.”

“Oh?” MacCready started cautiously. “What sorts of ideas?”

There was that smile again; satisfied, self-assured and oh-so charming.

“I can show you.”

MacCready considered a moment. “And if I said no?”

Madds moved back slightly, taking an audible breath. His measures to compose himself not going unnoticed. “I wouldn’t be mad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

MacCready reached for the hem of Madds’ underwear, but Madds caught his hand. “But, I would need a very cold shower.”

With that remark MacCready was eased onto his back, as Madds’ teeth scraped lightly across his throat. This was like some kind of fever dream, Madds kissed like a professional, his attentions unrelenting, but MacCready knew no matter how far they went, if he asked, they would stop.

MacCready never would have considered himself naturally submissive – sexual or otherwise, at least in his limited experiences to date. Especially in his line of work; where men were in a near constant low-level battle for dominance and following the wrong persons lead could cost you. But the idea of being told what to do, how to do it, at least in this arena, was beginning to feel more than alright.

“So I guess this means you’re topping, huh?” MacCready swallowed hard and spread his legs at Madds’ encouragement, shivering despite the temperature of the room when his boxers were pulled off and discarded unceremoniously onto the floor.

 _“Topping?”_ Madds traced the lines of MacCready’s cock with his tongue, eliciting a whine from the mercenary.

MacCready nodded, then cleared his throat and tried, in a voice gone hoarse, mouth dry and lips unsteady, "Yeah, y’know...be the one on top." The idea of being pushed face first into this mattress by Madds set his pulse pounding, still he was nervous. He had to admit that to himself.

Madds smiled up from between his thighs, lazily stroking MacCready’s cock, his thumb teasing over the slit, nudging it gently. “Would it bother you if I am?” He asked, his lips closing around MacCready’s cock.

“Oh n-no, I think you’d – ah – be great at it.” He felt Madds give his thigh a hard squeeze, and stopped joking around. MacCready closed his eyes, the dimly lit room fading to insignificance in comparison to the wet heat of Madds’ lips, his tongue, and MacCready couldn't help a whimper of complaint when Madds withdrew.

"Mac," Madds said, his tone coaxing MacCready to open his eyes and look at him. "I figured tonight we could just finish what was started this morning." He stated, leaning off the edge of the bed and retrieving what appeared to be a small bottle of something from his coat. “It’s lube, found it in an old store.”

_I’d bet caps his backpack is full to the brim of that and all other manner of crap._

“What are you going to do with that –” MacCready’s eyes widened when the hand gently massaged the cleft of his ass.

"Pull your legs up a little."

MacCready gasped when Madds' finger slid gingerly over his entrance, spreading the warming lubricant before the tip of the digit dipped in teasingly. In response he awkwardly hooked his arms under both his legs and brought them up towards his chest, a position he had witnessed before but never performed. He felt vulnerable and was grateful for the dark.

Madds murmured something, some pleased sound, and his mouth returned to what it had been doing.

A funny looking shadow on the wall, the many ways cave fungi can be prepared for consumption, a brahmin bellowing somewhere in the distance, the finer intricacies of tato farming. These were the details MacCready tried to focus on instead of the warm slick drag of Madds’ tongue, the obscene sounds Madds made as he pulled up and then down again, the way that finger was now curling over a spot inside of him that he was only vaguely aware existed. Less than twenty-four hours earlier a man had nearly killed them both, but it was impossible to concentrate on this when Madds’ mouth was so warm, welcoming him in.

"Madds," MacCready gasped out, his voice was wrecked. Absentmindedly, his hand had wandered down to the back of Madds’ head; his fingers tangling in the dark strands of hair. He shuddered, feeling himself losing control. It only took another touch from the digit clamped within him, another swirl of Madds’ tongue, and he was coming undone.

After the tremors in his body subsided, MacCready moved to relax his legs, wincing at the odd feeling when the finger was removed. _Better get used to it, that was only a freaking finger._ In the dimly lit room he could make out Madds’ nude form resting back on his knees, when he had removed his own underwear MacCready couldn’t say.

The hurried slick sounds and quick movements were familiar, and he watched as he had before with rapt attention. “Gonna have to let me repay the favor next time, boss." MacCready murmured.

MacCready couldn’t see the final conclusion of his companions’ activities here in the dark, but he watched the man’s broad form shudder, listened to his breathing escalate and the groan which seemed to punctuate the moment.

“Well…I don’t know about you,” Madds rasped, collapsing on his back alongside MacCready. “But this old man could use another nap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I realize up till now the story has followed along relatively linear in respects to the in-game universe, but moving forward things are going to get a little loose and non-canon. Makes things interesting though, right? Right. 
> 
> P.S. Trust me when I say I actually have all of the chapters outline, its just a matter of getting it on paper uh screen.


	14. The Path to Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds & Mac get a tip and head off to find a mysterious group called the Railroad.

Grim faces loomed over a counter in the town’s clinic, turned makeshift morgue, waiting patiently as Doctor Zhou removed a sizeable skull fragment from their mystery attackers head.

“What the heck is that?” MacCready muttered, narrowing his eyes. A round glass device, approximately the size of a potato crisp, visibly protruded from the corpse’s brain.

“ _This_ is what I was talking about.” The doctor remarked, carefully extracting the item with a pair of forceps.

To MacCready it looked as though an old radio fuse had been driven into the man’s brain, although admittedly that wouldn’t make much sense.

“Well now, this is the second time I’ve come across someone with electronics stuck in their head…” Madds explained, plucking the device barehanded from the doctor. MacCready grimaced.

“Yeah but this doesn’t look like the one you found in Kellogg.”

“Still, what are the odds? Are electronic brain components a frequent occurrence these days?”

MacCready shrugged. _With him? The odds are pretty damn good._ As far as he was concerned, Madds was a magnet for the nontypical.

A light tap from the front of the room drew the trio’s attention, standing in the doorway was the young woman from earlier. She shifted in place apprehensively, looking from the doctor, to MacCready, to Madds, and back again.

Madds handed the device over to MacCready, motioning for her to join them. 

“I never got the chance to thank you last night.” MacCready told her when she reached the counter.

“No thanks needed, I’m just glad I got to you in time.”

“Oh,” MacCready laughed. “Me too.”

“I second that sentiment,” Madds said, stepping closer. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Abigail…but you can call me Abi.” 

“Nice to meet you, Abi. You picked a hell of a time to join our little settlement, but I know we’re all happy you’re here.”

“About that,” MacCready turned the device over in his hands, examining the prongs which extended from the end. “She isn’t planning on staying too long. But I told her we would try to find a caravan that could get her to an...uh –”

“- Old North Church.”

“That’s right, Old North Church.” 

Madds gave him a questioning look.

“Abi and I met while I was out looking for the Sinclair girl…” MacCready told him in response, handing the device back. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the story later on.”

Doctor Zhou pulled a sheet up over the corpse and cleared her throat. “Unless you need to examine the body further, I am going to clean up.”

The three individuals shook their heads, murmured thanks, and excused themselves from the building.

“Well what do you think, boss?” MacCready asked, stepping outside. “Seems to be more Institute technology, maybe that uh Detective Valentine guy could help us?”

Before Madds could respond, Abigail interjected. “If I could make a suggestion…the people that I am going to meet, well they might be able to help.”

“How so?”

“You…you both seem like good people," She hesitated. "I was told to meet a group at that church, they’re called the Railroad, and they help people like me.”

 _People like her?_ MacCready wondered.

“I don’t know what you want with the Institute, but I have been told that the Railroad knows as much as anyone does about them out here in the Commonwealth.”

“Have you ever heard of this Railroad crew before, Mac?” Madds asked, pulling MacCready out of his thoughts.

“Nope, name doesn’t ring any bells.”

If you would be willing to escort me to them, I am sure they would help you,” Abigail looked around, as if ensuring they weren’t being overheard before beginning again. “All we have to do is get to the church and then _follow the freedom trail_.”

MacCready pressed his lips together, shooting Madds a sideways glance. _Well, there’s no way **this** could be a bad idea._

~*~

The sun had begun its slow decent below the horizon, plunging the desolate landscape into darkness. A warm breeze filtered through the skeletons of trees, carrying with it the trilling of insects and scent of decay. Somewhere the caw from a crow was drowned out by the metallic screech of a car rocking violently on its hinges.

“Eeeehhh! Shut up!” MacCready screamed, his outburst having zero effect on the ferals clambering at the closed window.

Withered bodies pushed and shoved up against the sides of the car, a pulsating mass of distorted features clawing at the windows in an attempt get inside. MacCready couldn’t tell at this point how many there were, but it felt like far too many to safely escape from, especially at night.

“Cool it, Mac. They can’t get through.”

MacCready scowled.

They had made decent progress since leaving the safety of Sanctuary behind the day before, wandering single file down an abandoned highway with MacCready bringing up the rear, rifle clasped in hand. While the occasional wild dog had been spotted, surprisingly little else made an appearance. That alone should have made him suspicious, nothing ever went _that_ smoothly.

Once they realized the feral ghouls were coming out of the underbrush around them they had little time to react, putting the first thing they found between themselves and the ravenous drove. An old car.

“I think our best option for the time being is to settle in,” Madds paused, adjusting his position in the backseat. “We’re not going anywhere tonight.”

The idea of getting any rest with all the commotion going on was laughable. MacCready couldn’t imagine trying to sleep through the terrible noise the ferals were making, much less the car rocking around.

Abigail sat in the front passenger seat, her knees hugged to her chest. She let out a muffled “Ok” at the decision.

_Probably for the best we came along, girl wouldn’t have gotten very far without us._

MacCready shut his eyes and tried to ignore the way those dry fingers scraped at the glass, but it was useless.

Dozens of nails dragging across metal. The sound roared in the young mercenary's ears.

MacCready stared out at the horde, his stomach tightening into a knot. _These were the last sounds she heard…_ His nostrils flared, he could practically smell the damp mildew of the sewer.

“Hey.”

A feral screeched, snapping its jaws futilely along the tinted window.

“Hey, you alright?” Madds asked, touching his arm.

“Huh? Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” MacCready scooted around, positioning himself to lay back against the other man. “Just don’t like ferals.”

Madds leaned forward, and kissed MacCready on the temple. It was a soft kiss, one of comfort, he appreciated the gesture.

“I know you don’t,” Madds’ hand slipped down to cover MacCready's own and he felt the body behind him relax. “We only have to be here for a few hours, just until the sun comes up and we can make a plan.”

MacCready made a noise is response, focusing on the warm breath at the back of his neck.

~*~

“Stop it, Madds!” MacCready hissed, jerking his head away. “We aren’t exactly alone, ya know.”

Madds gave a sort of breathless laugh, his stubble scratching against MacCreadys ear. “She’s asleep, and I’m not doing anything wrong.”

MacCready blushed, exhaling louder than he meant to. His eyes darted towards the front of the car, and he craned for any sound that could indicate their ward had woken up.

Not yet.

The warm lips returned to his neck, ghosting along the curve of it, slowly working towards the line of his jaw. MacCready’s irritation with the man was tinged with lust, and he swallowed hard.

“You’re a tease.”

“I won’t be when we have a little more privacy.”

MacCready grumbled.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

He didn’t believe Madds would, actually, but set about thinking of all manner of bland subjects in an effort to calm the erection present through his jeans.

“You know, I don’t think you have ever told me what that _R_ stands for.” Madds whispered in his ear.

“What are you talking about?”

“The _R_ , in your first name. Does it stand for something?”

A silence passed between them while MacCready studied the cuff of his sleeve, worrying a torn patch of fabric unnecessarily. The thought of introducing himself fully had never really occurred to him before. With past contracts there was never any reason to do so. They never lasted that long, why go through the formality?

“It’s Robert,” he replied quietly. “Robert Joseph MacCready.”

Madds hummed in appreciation, his fingers skirting playfully up MacCready’s arm. “I like it… _Robert_ , it suits you.”

MacCready smiled to himself, and rolled his eyes. “That’s a relief.”

~*~

By morning the ferals were nowhere to be seen, after having spent the better half of the night slapping into the sides of the car they had apparently grown uninterested and wandered away.

Abigail and Madds seemed to hit it off, chatting amicably up ahead about this and that, with bits of their conversation floating back to MacCready throughout the morning, most of it involving more seemingly tall tales regarding things from back before the war.

There was of course no way to really disprove Madds' stories, but MacCready enjoyed teasing him over the details anyway.

“Abi, don’t listen to him. He’s full of crap.”

He watched her shake her head and laugh.

Madds looked back, flashing MacCready one of those winning smiles over his shoulder.

“Sooner or later I’ll get around to finding a book that will back me up.”

“That’ll be the day.”

“How can you be so skeptical over the concept of a giraffe but the idea that synths might be replacing members of the Commonwealth is a plausible, every day, occurrence?”

“Because,” MacCready grinned. “I’ve seen a synth, but who the hells even heard of a _giraffe_ before?”

"No offense to Nick, but I don't think he counts as one of the ones the Commonwealth is worried about."

In the distance rusted metal glinted harshly under the noon sun; a maze composed from the wreckage of long-abandoned vehicles created an enclosed path of sorts which was blocking their way. The trio grew quiet as they approached it, and MacCready tightened his grip on his rifle; mindful of the inherent dangers of funneling through places like these. Raiders and Super Mutants often took advantage of the almost ‘naturally’ occurring bottlenecks dotted across the Commonwealth and surrounding areas; as they provided an easy trap.

Madds reached his hand out, motioning for the young woman to move behind him. “Abi, walk between us until we get through here, okay?”

“Oh - of course.” She quickly obliged, glancing nervously back at MacCready.

He made a sympathetic face. “We’re fine, just being careful.”

Although Abigail had come to his rescue during the attack on Sanctuary, MacCready got the impression that she had very little experience with the perils of traveling. Between her lack of knowledge in stimpak use, and the way she now uneasily touched the pistol at her side, he wondered if she had perhaps grown up sheltered inside one of those vaults. _Poor kid_.

On the flip side, MacCready was impressed that Madds was as competent and skilled as he was.

 _If I fell out of an ice box one day, then wandered out here equipped with nothing but a spandex jumpsuit_ – he snorted – _I’d have been deathclaw chow for sure._

The rusted shells of a bygone era crowded in on both sides, with the debris so close in some spots that the trio had to maneuver sideways to make it through.

“How far do you think this goes on for?” Abigail asked, jumping at the sound of a piece of junk dislodging itself from the rest of the pile.

“Not sure,” Madds replied quietly, glancing in the direction of the noise. “Can’t be too much farther now.”

MacCready could tell Madds was focused on something up ahead and he squinted, straining to hear any sign of something amiss.

As if on cue, a tire rolled ominously across their path, emerging from behind the dingy shell of a red sports car. The group paused abruptly, watching it wobble and drop over with a thud.

“Stay here.” Madds ordered, cautiously rounding the corner and disappearing from sight.

They remained motionless for a time, as MacCready watched for movement among the piles of junk.

_Where the hell did he go?_

“MacCready!”

He blinked.

Abigail stared past him, eyes wide and face taunt with fear.

Thumbing the safety off, he turned around, flinching slightly at a raider’s proximity.

“Hey friend.”

The man’s face exploded in a burst of red; he never had time to react. MacCready lowered the rifle, his ears ringing from the gunshot ricocheting off the surrounding vehicles.

“Goddamn raiders.”

~*~

A light flickered in the back room of an old diner on the edge of town. The lantern propped haphazardly on top of a stove cast a warm glow over MacCready and Abigail. The pair were were stretched out against a wall of cabinets, sorting rations for the evening.

“I…which would you prefer?”

“It doesn’t matter, cram is cram. Whether or not I have to eat 'deluxe' or regular, its all the same to me.”

“He likes the one with the…uh…'extra meaty bits'!” Madds shouted from the other room.

MacCready made a face, reaching for the tin of canned meat sitting between them. “Know what? I’ma let you have that one.”

He sighed, and opened the can, spooning out a chunk of greyish brown meat, eyeing Abigail who was looking apprehensively down at her own can of dinner.

“C’mon now, it’s not great…but you gotta eat.”

Abigail opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again quickly.

MacCready swallowed a gelatinous mouthful of cram. “Listen, if you really can’t stomach it, I understand. Madds probably has some old mirelurk jerky or something in his pack.”

The sounds of drawers slamming shut and rustling came from the other side of the wall. Followed by Madds mumbling about needing a bigger backpack.

“That is, we could find something else _if_ he would stop scrounging around out there!”

Madds almost immediately meandered into the room, cutting off the light from his pipboy. “What was that, kid? Did you say something?”

MacCready rolled his eyes when Madds dropped the heavy pack down next to him.

“Sounds like you found plenty of crap,” MacCready remarked wryly. “You know I’m not carrying any of that.”

“I’ve never asked you too.”

Madds brushed his thumb over the base of MacCready’s neck as he lowered himself to the floor, just a touch, but it was enough to elicit a small shiver from the young man.

_Yeah, yeah. Enjoy that shit-eating grin, smug ass._

Abigail had sat in silence throughout the exchange, and MacCready glanced over to her. “Madds, do you have anything else to eat? Abi doesn’t like your nasty cram.”

“Huh, oh I’m sure I have something else in here.”

Madds reached to undo the buckles securing his pack.

“No, it’s not that…I mean…” Abigail floundered. “It’s just I have never tried it before.”

“Count yourself lucky.” MacCready joked, cutting his eyes Madds who looked as surprised as MacCready felt.

_How? Everybody’s had cram before, whether they wanted it or not._

“Listen, I really appreciate all that you are both doing for me…I know it isn’t easy.” Abigail paused, staring back at them nervously. “Can I, can I tell you something? It might make some of this make more sense.”

“Of course you can, Abi. We’re here to help.” Madds replied, in his usual soothing fashion.

_Minute man to the end. His outlook is going to get us into real trouble one of these days…_

“I’m a synth.”

_What the hell?_

“That’s great,” Madds told her cheerfully, MacCready raised his eyebrows. “I mean, we have a good friend who is a synth.”

Abigail smiled awkwardly “Not everyone is as…accepting.”

_Do I attract loonies or?_

“Well, we are. Aren’t we, Mac?”

“Huh?” MacCready started when Madds elbowed him in the ribs. “Yeah, synths…we know some.”

“The group we are going to meet, the Railroad, they help synths like me. My contact and I were travelling there when we were ambushed by raiders,” she looked pointedly at MacCready and he nodded, half listening to the dialog. “…when I got away from the Institute, they told me that the Railroad could help me start a new life…”

“Wait, you’re from the Institute?” Madds asked, leaning forward.

MacCready almost laughed until he saw Madds’ expression. He touched his companion’s arm. “Madds…” The idea of falsely getting Madds’ hopes up irritated him, there was no way this woman was a synth.

“What, Mac?”

“C’mon Madds…I mean,” he motioned at Abigail, giving Madds a pleading look. “She’s not –”

“But I am," Abigail interrupted. "I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

MacCready smiled at her, in a pacifying sort of way. “Abigail, you’re just confused –”

“Mac, stop it.”

“You eat, you sleep, hell I’ve seen you bleed! A stimpak wouldn’t work on...on some robot wearing a human suit!”

Madds suddenly grabbed a handful of his duster’s lapel, jerking MacCready sideways.

“That enough.” Madds warned.

Abigail blinked and took a ragged breath, composing herself.

“We are just as real as you…but that doesn't change what I am, or where I am from.”

“I believe you, Abi.” Madds told her.

MacCready could feel his face turning red and he pulled away from Madds’ grasp. _After all the crap the raiders did to her, figures something would snap._ He scowled, crossing his arms. _Let him think whatever he wants._ He did his best to tune out the rest of the conversation, staring blankly at a roach which was scurrying across the decayed plaster wall.

~*~

The mood of the following day had been noticeably tense, an uncomfortable silence between the two men was punctuated only by the occasional comment or orders from Madds, while Abigail passed the time in quiet conversation with the older man.

Following the ‘freedom trail’, as it were, had only proven to be a minor delay to their pace. Colored tiles were found to be scattered throughout the overgrown streets, leading them on a winding chase around buildings which made up what was once a historic district.

“There! That’s the church.” Abigail shouted, pointing to the old structure.

The foreboding ruins of the church stood in the courtyard ahead of them, its stone walls overgrown with moss and vegetation. A patch of fresh white paint drew MacCready’s attention to a crudely stenciled lantern stamped into the door.

“Heck of a hideout,” Madds said, approaching the entrance. “You know, I think Nora and I may have visited this place for a holiday one year…”

The trio pressed into the dark foyer. What sparse furniture hadn’t been carried off by looters was covered in a thick layer of dust.

MacCready coughed, looking up at the cobwebs which hung from the dismantled light fixtures above. “Was it always this much of dump?” He asked dryly.

No answer was given in response.

Making his way to the back of the church, MacCready paused to examine the crumbling podium, it was the only section which looked remotely dust free. _Maybe settlers stopping in?_ That religion still clung on, even in a ruined society like this, fascinated him. 

“Drop your weapons.”

MacCready winced. _Nothing like a gun muzzle to the back of the head to make you feel welcome._

“Do what they’re asking, Mac.” Madds voice called out begrudgingly.

The cold steel pressed harder into his head. A warning, MacCready supposed, to follow the command. “Whatever you say.” He slowly lowered his rifle to the floor, and caught a glimpse of Madds doing likewise several feet away.

“Now then,” the woman behind him started. “What brings you three to Old North Church, huh? Looters? Raiders?”

“Polyamorous family unit lost on their way Diamond City?” A man interjected from somewhere to MacCready’s left.

“Wha - Brian!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

MacCready huffed.

“We are looking for a group calling themselves the Railroad,” Madds explained. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about them, would you?”

“Maybe," the man, presumably named Brian, responded. "Why do you want to find them?”

Abigail mumbled nervously, before clearing her throat. “It's m..me, what I mean is, I need to find them. Lauretha, my ah my escort, she told me I could find them here.”

The gun faltered, and MacCready’s jaw clenched. _That was it, I could have turned the tables on them, damn..._

“Abi? Abigail! When you didn’t arrive at your drop point, we thought for sure you had been compromised." The woman explained, relief fading into concern. "But where is Lauretha?”

“She’s dead…” Abigail said quietly, a tremble to her voice.

MacCready remembered the day he found her – _raider trash_ – how petrified she had looked when he approached her outside of the substation – _no one should have to go through anything like that_ – the way she shrunk away as he slipped out of his duster – _the girl thinks she’s a freaking robot_ – her grateful sob when he placed it over her shoulders – _so? she saved my ass._

“It doesn’t matter. It’s protocol.” The woman’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

_Crap, what’s protocol?_

“That’s fine, we understand.” Madds replied calmly.

Just like that, the gun was removed.

_Understand what?_

“Madds what’s going on – the hell?!” The cloth sack that was roughly pulled over MacCready’s head took him by surprise, and he had half a mind to turn around and take a swing at the woman.

"It's okay, don't panic." Madds called out to him.

"Sure, thing," MacCready mumbled through the bag. "No problem, boss."


	15. Trust Exercises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds and Mac meet with the Railroad to ask for assistance in continuing their hunt for Shaun, Desdemona comes up with a compromise.

Without warning, MacCready found himself being shoved forward. He quickly put his hands out, groping through the dark as he was pushed along. Uneven footsteps could be heard just ahead, and he could only assume that his companions were being forced along in a similar fashion.

_They had better have my rifle…_

As time went on, the floor began to slope downward and the air grew cooler. Clearly, they were travelling underground, but why? He hoped that whoever was marching them through this musty tunnel was with the Railroad, and not just some incompetent gang members, or worse.

“Agh, crap!” MacCready tripped, nearly falling to the ground were it not for the hand which suddenly gripped his elbow.

“Whoa there, kiddo,” The male voice said, amusement evident in his tone. “Don’t need you busting your face open on the way to meet Dez, let me give you a hand.”

“Thanks, _pal_. But I’m fine.”

MacCready tried to wrench his arm away as he stumbled forward, but the grip on his arm only tightened.

The man chuckled. What was his name? Brian? 

“No, no, no. Really, we’re almost there and I’ve gotta be honest with you, it’s not actually a request.”

~*~

The sound of a door unlatching was followed by curious chatter. MacCready faltered but was drawn forward into the new room.

“Here ya go.”

The sack was pulled roughly up over his head.

Though the space was illuminated only by candlelight, MacCready still blinked as his eyes adjusted.

They were standing in the entrance to a massive room, and from the style of architecture it appeared to also be a part of the church. It looked like a hideout from one of his comics; red brick made up the surrounding walls and archways, and old pipelines ran along the ceiling.

MacCready wondered how this group even originally found the place. Multiple people milled about nearby, some seemingly interested in them, and some going about their business at various workstations.

The place was too clean, too organized. Definitely – _thankfully_ – not a raider den.

“Desdemona, look who Brian and I found during our rounds, it’s the missing synth, Abiga –”

“Olympia!” a middle-aged woman with auburn hair swiftly approached them, her face drawn into an expression of stern irritation. “What have I told you about code names?”

MacCready adjusted his hat, eyeing the first woman, his rifle was slung over her shoulder.

“To…um…to use them?”

Desdemona frowned. “Please escort Abigail to the barracks, get her settled in.”

Olympia removed the rifle, handing it sheepishly over to the other woman. “Yeah, no problem.”

“So,” Desdemona began, splitting her attention between the two men. “Let me be the first one to say thank you for helping Abigail reach us safely. When we lost contact with her agent…well, typically when that happens, we don’t get anybody back.”

Abigail followed after Olympia, pausing only to look back at the pair. MacCready forced a smile, and nodded when she mouthed ‘thank you’ to him before walking away.

“No thanks are necessary, we try to help out where we can,” Madds said.

“That’s not terribly common these days,” she stated evenly. “Everyone’s got an agenda, so what’s yours?”

MacCready cleared his throat. “I think first, it’d sure be nice to know who exactly we’re talking to right now,” he pointed out. “And what this place is.”

“Of course. I apologize for the blindfolds earlier, but we cannot risk the security of this facility or those who work here,” Desdemona replied coolly. “As I am sure you may have already guessed, we are with the Railroad. This is our main headquarters, but we have members and agents positioned all over the Commonwealth. I’m Desdemona and –” 

“Dez, for short.”

“And this,” she sighed, gesturing to their earlier escort. “Is Bishop, one of our agents.” 

When he was introduced, MacCready looked over, expecting – what? There was the man, leanly built, and handsome in a way not really seen in the wasteland; unless you counted the prewar leisure magazines one could sometimes find in old storefronts.

His eyes lit up, and MacCready narrowed his in response. 

A look of amusement plastered itself across Bishop’s face, and he redirected his attention to Madds. “Nice to meet you, sans bag of course.” 

“Yes…” Madds said slowly, meeting his stare. “Well, keeping with introductions, I’m Madds, and this is MacCready. We’ve heard that your group possess a decent amount of knowledge regarding the Institute, is that true?”

“Our purpose here is very simple,” Desdemona said in a practical manner. “We believe that late generation synths, particularly _gen three’s_ , as they are called, should have the same rights and freedoms as any other person.”

 _Gen three’s?_ MacCready wondered.

Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same way, including their creators,” She paused to hoist the rifle’s strap over her shoulder. “We help synths escape persecution and start new lives, as regular members of society. So, to answer your question,” Desdemona pivoted, signaling for them to follow and walked away, her commanding gait leaving no question as to her higher position within the group. “Yes, we do know a thing or two about the Institute.”

~*~

Upon entering the room, Desdemona laid MacCready’s weapon down, and invited them to sit.

The cramped space they were led to was plainly furnished, containing no more than a desk and chair, long table, and a few stools. Desdemona motioned to a Mister Handy who hovered near the door, and mugs of water were clumsily poured and set out in front of them. She dismissed the robot away and poured her own cup, then sank wearily onto a stool alongside Bishop. 

“All right,” she said curtly. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re wanting to know about the Commonwealth’s shadiest not-so-secret society, hm?”

MacCready glanced over at Madds, who seemed to be in no great hurry to respond. Instead, he met the woman’s steady gaze with his own neutral expression, as he quietly indulged in the provided mug. “I’m looking for my son,” he began at last. “The Institute they…killed my wife and then took him away.”

“We are sorry to hear that," she began. "But how do you know it was the Institute?” Maybe it was a raider gang? The Institute isn’t fond of leaving witnesses.”

Desdemona appeared polite but skeptical throughout Madds’ recital of events. But Bishop seemed to make less of an attempt to hide it than her, MacCready noted, watching him rock back on his stool.

“An infant? I don’t think we have seen a case of the Institute taking anyone under the age of fifteen.”

“What does that matter?” MacCready snapped. “I don’t care what sort of _experts_ you think you are, these are the facts. Either you can help us or not.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. MacCready felt Madds’ hand come to rest on his knee under the table, willing him to back off.

“It was never suggested we wouldn’t provide you with some assistance, but our purpose here are the rights and wellbeing of synths, not missing children.” She said.

Madds reached into his coat pocket and carefully laid the strange electronic device on the table in front of them.

“We found this in a man’s head last week. He attacked our town, and somehow abducted one of our settlers –”

“He took Sturges, the piece of sh – crap, and did _something_ to him.” MacCready interjected. “Sturges kept fading in and out, like a crappy eyebot signal, then just like that,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis. “He was gone.”

The pair across from them were silent, their eyes roving over the object.

“But you actually took him out?” Bishop replied, sounding truly shocked. “That’s…well I mean, if it was what I think it was, that’s incredible.”

“It was a hell of a scuffle.” MacCready rolled his shoulder absentmindedly at the memory.

Desdemona took the gadget in hand, turning it this way and that, her brow knitted in concentration.

“I don’t doubt that,” she mumbled scratching at a fleck of dried gore with her thumbnail. “Coursers, let’s just say I’d rather be up against a deathclaw guarding its nest.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of other operatives milling about in the adjoining room. Neither man offered up a response, but at the thought of fighting whoever or _whatever_ that was back at Sanctuary again, MacCready would have to agree. 

~*~

A significant amount of time had passed in deep discussion, with the end result being that a bargain would be made; several of the Railroads agents were in the field, but if Madds and MacCready agreed to assist Bishop on a run, then the organization’s resident engineer would take a look at the supposed courser object. To see if any clues could be ascertained.

MacCready spent the remainder of what he imagined was the afternoon cleaning his gun and sorting gear, although, it was impossible to tell the time of day down in the catacombs.

Most of the organization’s inhabitants greeted him pleasantly enough while he sat alone by a workbench, and he glanced up now and again to take in sidelong looks from curious members. Most quickly moved on, busying themselves with all the goings-on of their day, all except for one. That pair of eyes he could practically feel burning a hole in his duster.

“Do members of your agency _often_ go missing?” MacCready asked, refusing to take his eyes off the task at hand. He wasn’t about to reward, what he felt, was obnoxious persistence.

“I suppose not with any more frequency than anyone else around the Commonwealth.” Came Bishop’s reply.

MacCready clicked his tongue, and focused on cleaning the rifle’s scope. The Railroad agent seemed cocky, at best, and there was no denying he wasn’t exactly looking forward to traveling anywhere with him. Madds in tow or not.

“How’d you get caught up in this little adventure, eh?”

MacCready was silent, but it only served to encourage the other man.

“Pretty dangerous stuff, getting involved against the Institute. I would suspect there’s only two ways to get a man into that kind of situation. Loyalty or caps.” 

The metallic click of the bolt sliding back into place sat heavy between them, it was the only response he deemed worthy of giving. 

“My bet is on caps. You don’t look anything like your companion, so I assume you aren’t related.”

_What the hell’s his deal anyway?_

The reassembled rifle was placed onto the table with a thud, and MacCready looked up, further annoyed to see Bishop sitting so close. “Why would I need to be related to him to be willing to help?”

The agent produced a wide smile, teeth white in the candlelight, sending a pang of self-consciousness to MacCready’s gut.

“Only because it’s hard to find friends willing to die over a personal cause, is all.”

Bishop sat backwards on a rickety chair, his long legs on either side, arms folded in a casual demeanor across the back. 

“I’m back,” Madds announced, crossing the room to stand behind him. “Sorry I took so long,” 

A beat passed before Bishop broke the stare, his eyes flicking up to meet the man whose hand now rested softly on MacCready’s shoulder. 

“No worries. Was Tinker Tom able to provide any insight right off hand?”

“He said he had some ideas, but nothing concrete. Although he mentioned the possibility of pulling records from it, you know, maybe by plugging it into a computer system.” 

MacCready rose quickly from his seat, almost too quickly, as the chair scraped back on the floor.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, not because the idea of hurrying out to find missing Railroad members particularly excited him, rather that he would like to get it over and done with.

“Somebodies eager.” Bishop teased.

Madds gripped the straps of his pack, and smiled down at him. “Sure, Mac. I’m ready if you are.” 

_The sooner we get this over with..._ MacCready thought, inwardly sighing. _The better._

~*~

The journey had so far passed uneventfully, if one considered it uneventful to travel twenty odd miles through rough terrain, avoiding roads in an attempt to minimize the risk of bumping into raiders or supermutants, just to end up standing on the bank of rather large and turbulent river. 

Dusk was settling, bringing with it a cool breeze. Not surprisingly, it was also misting heavily, and a shiver ran through MacCready.

“Maybe we should walk along it, see if there’s any way across – like a bridge.” MacCready offered, looking down the river for alternative paths.

Madds shook his head. “I don’t want to get in there either, but it’ll be quicker if we go straight across.”

“Agreed,” Bishop said, already peeling the damp shirt off of his back. “Nothing like a little swim.”

MacCready grimaced, and dropped the rifle gently by his side. “I hate being wet.”

Shrugging off the threadbare duster, he wrapped it around his weapon and began picking his way over slippery rocks. The water, ice cold and black in color, lapped at MacCready’s legs as he waded out. Several feet ahead, Madds sloshed forward and was suddenly chest deep, gripping his gun overtop of his head.

“You look nervous, can you swim?” Bishop asked playfully from behind him. 

“Of course I can swim.” MacCready said through gritted teeth, his eyes widened when the next step brought the water up to his neck. He scrambled for purchase, determined to keep his rifle aloft. 

Madds was almost to the other bank. _If I asked, he would come back out to me…_ MacCready blew a hard breath from his nose, there was no way he would endure a bruised pride over this.

“Suit yourself,” The shirtless agent crooned, striding past MacCready with a graceful ease that made his blood boil. “You just seemed like you could use the help.”


	16. Necessary Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelling with Bishop proved to be obnoxious, at best. Madds and Mac learn new information about synths. Have they proved themselves enough to go freely about the Railroad?

The fire between them sputtered and cracked, its orange flames reaching up to lick the damp air. MacCready was surprised they had even managed to get it to light, the smothering fog had everything saturated, from wood to wanderer.

“This weather…it’s really something.” Madds remarked glibly, in an obvious attempt to make light conversation.

Bishop nodded, he stood at the edge of their little camp, laying his pants over a tree limb. “Beautiful, really. Does wonders for the skin.” 

MacCready turned to Madds, expecting to engage in a knowing look, but to his surprise the older man didn’t reciprocate his stare.

Their travel companion, in the loosest sense of the term, continued to get on his nerves. If MacCready had hoped that Bishop would lose interest in pestering him once they got on the road, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Your clothes probably won’t dry out by morning, not with all this moisture hanging about,” Bishop told him, taking a seat near the fire. “but they still seem counterproductive to sleep in.”

“Thanks for that interesting bit of information.”

Madds rested cross-legged on the ground, hair hanging in his face, carefully setting the waterlogged contents of his pack out to dry. “Seems like a good way to wake up with a pruny ass.”

“It’s freezing out here,” MacCready argued. “wet or not, least I have some layers on.”

He shivered from exhaustion and the cold. It was going to be a wet and uncomfortable night on the marsh, and he pulled in irritation at the front of his pants.

_Just take it off, Madds is in his underwear, so what does it matter?_

Most places outside the city limits around the Commonwealth gave him a feeling of being surrounded by rocks, or hills of debris, or trees in all their leafless splendor, but here in this clearing they were exposed. The sensation of bedding down in the open like this, particularly at night, didn’t sit well with him. 

_With my luck, we’ll all wind up getting chased through this clearing wearing next to nothing…_

MacCready regarded the man sitting opposite him through the smoke. Bishop’s eyes, normally penetrating, were directed elsewhere for once; casually roaming over the label of a rations box.

Not taking into account differences in personality, the physical contrasts between Madds and Bishop were hard not to notice. Madds was stocky, powerful and handsome, where Bishop was slender, lithe and for lack of a better word, _pretty_. While both men had a compact athletic aspect to them, Madds cut a more imposing figure, despite being several inches shorter than the other man.

The fire popped, breaking his self-imposed trance, and he glanced sheepishly in Madds’ direction, relieved to find him still busy with the contents of his backpack.

Careful to look anywhere but the smug expression which he just knew Bishop had to be wearing, MacCready stood up and hastily peeled off his wet clothes, marching them over to the lone tree that stood watch in their campsite.

Despite the goosebumps which immediately covered his body, he had to admit – after throwing his duster over his shoulders – that he felt much more comfortable.

“Mind taking the first watch, Bishop?” Madds asked, spreading his coat out on the ground. 

“Not at all, get some rest.”

“Figured you could join me, Mac. Then we can take the second watch together.” 

MacCready halted mid sit, having begun to lower himself back down to his previous seat.

“Ah…” He started.

Madds looked up at him expectantly, arms behind his head, legs sprawled. The sight of him made MacCready’s stomach tighten, if _someone_ wasn’t lurking nearby, well, nobody would be taking watch tonight.

While the idea of lying next to Madds on their makeshift bed for the night sent a jolt of excitement through him, it didn’t stop the situation from feeling slightly awkward. He had no experience in travelling with multiple companions where one of the members included _his_ intimate partner; though he had been the uncoupled one in the group before.

If Madds felt any way other than ordinary, he didn’t show it, and moved to allow MacCready to lay down alongside him, dragging the duster over them both as best he could.

The fire crackled in the quiet once again, hissing briefly when a new log was hefted onto it.

MacCready watched their companion through his lashes, the smoke obscured figure sat staring off towards the neighboring field, a gauss rifle laid across his lap.

An arm draped itself intimately over his side, pulling MacCready back into the warm body of his partner. Fatigue from the road finally overtook him, and the blurry image of Bishop smirking at him through the haze was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him. 

~*~

They had packed up early the next morning, before the sun had even begun to crest the horizon. As MacCready had suspected, his clothing did not dry very much through the night, and he had struggled to pull the offending fabric back on in the dark.

“Long story short, that’s how I ended up making a jetpack out of a toaster oven.” Bishop concluded, matter-of-factly.

Madds laughed, it was a deep infectious sound.

Fog still hung around the trio like a shroud, refusing to allow them any respite from the damp conditions of the previous day, and MacCready wondered if they would ever dry off.

During a routine scan of the surrounding marshland, MacCready stole a glance at Madds, who strode ahead. The traditional minuteman cloak hung heavy from his shoulders, unintentionally collecting cheatgrass seeds as he picked his way through the thick underbrush. He was the vision of solidity, yet the thought of his ability to switch between stable leader and easy-going friend brought heat to MacCready’s cheeks. 

MacCready had been roused in the wee hours of the morning by Madds, who had mumbled explanations about it being “their turn” to take up the watch, in order to allow Bishop a few hours of sleep. Fast forward several groggy minutes later when he found himself being pressed forcefully back into the tree, Madds’ mouth hot at his throat, the older man’s fingers hastily groping at the hardness now straining through the front of his underwear.

If Bishop had been aware of the activities taking place at the edge of camp, he hadn’t let on.

“You’re turn.” MacCready had croaked, dragging Madds back up to him from his position on the ground. His partner had smiled, kissing him roughly on the lips; he could taste himself on Madds’ tongue. “Later, I’ll take mine later.” 

The words made his pulse quicken now, just as they had hours ago in camp.

~*~

Two nights later, the trio were encamped on a stretch of highway, near a dilapidated billboard advertising a ‘new and improved hair tonic’, whatever that might be, MacCready thought absentmindedly. It had been a long day’s travel, which included fighting their way through a nest of mirelurks, and everyone seemed pleased to stop and rest.

Madds had killed a radstag that morning, and a portion of the fresh meat, cooked with tatos, carrots, and whatever else they could find during their trek, had made a refreshingly pleasant dinner. Content and full, the three men sprawled around the fire, while Madds and Bishop discussed the Institute, Railroad operations, and of course, synths.

MacCready huddled closer to Madds, trying to find a comfortable spot to sit on the hard asphalt. They had camped at the edge of an overpass, where the worn concrete bridge gave them a natural advantage and visibility over the perimeter. While the road wouldn’t do them any favors in respect to comfort, it was better safe than sorry. Tonight, they would sleep easy. 

“You see, after that last incident we were asked to work separately, for the Railroad’s sake,” Bishop reminisced, one corner of his mouth turned up. “I suppose it’s for the best, Deacon seems to really enjoy the new detail they’ve stuck him on.”

There was lull in the conversation, which Madds filled by taking a drag on a cigarette.

“So, you’re telling us that the Railroad has technology to where you can just… _completely_ change your appearance?” MacCready said, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “Go on then, sell us another one.”

“No joke, I can look like anyone, kiddo. _Whatever_ the role requires.” Bishop seemed to try for a lewd wink but only squinted at the young mercenary instead.

MacCready bristled.

“That’s certainly impressive, is that how you move the synths? Rather, is that how the Railroad disguises them in order for them to start new lives?”

Bishop stretched, extending his legs which were crossed at the ankles, and leaned back projecting an air of languid interest.

“In some cases, though that’s an exception, not the rule. I’ve been working with them going on…I’d say almost eight years now,” he paused, scratching thoughtfully at the stubble peppered along his chin. “To be honest, we didn’t know they were synths, the generation threes, at first. We thought they were the missing settlers, who’d had some sort of experiments performed on them by the Institute.”

“Because they look so human, like Abigail?” Madds added.

“Right.”

“How did you figure out they were synths?”

“Couple of ways, for one they don’t age, not in the physical sense like we do anyway. That bright-eyed young lady you escorted to us, well she will look like that for the rest of her life. However long that is.”

MacCready bit his tongue, semi-figuratively, as the conversation continued.

“We’ve rescued several gen threes who came directly from the Institute, meaning their programing didn’t wear out – or they didn’t take a blow to the head which messed with their wiring, so they were able to explain some of the details. Namely that they were _born_ in the Institute and essentially kept as slaves. Although the exact process of how they are being created is beyond me –”

Wild dogs took up howling somewhere in the distance, their mournful chorus briefly halting the flow of conversation. Within seconds, all three men seemed unconcerned, the camp’s height above the Commonwealth, and the fire, would keep most of the smaller creatures at bay.

“–The other thing is the device they all have in their heads, it’s a chip, similar to the one you brought us. It’s what controls them. That man who attacked your settlement, I would bet caps he was a courser.”

Madds lit another cigarette, sucking at the fresh roll of paper before handing it over to MacCready. 

“Coursers are gen threes as well, but they are stronger, meaner, and seem to be meant for special missions. Usually reconnaissance of escaped synths.” 

MacCready took a long drag, relishing the sweet burning sensation that curled throughout his lungs and throat. _Coursers…_ He exhaled into the air, watching the grey wisps disappear into the cloud of smoke rising from their fire.

_Is that what happened to Sturges? …was he a…a synth?_

The idea disturbed him. That someone MacCready knew, hell, a man who he would consider a close friend could be one of those…things, it left him feeling uncomfortable.

“What do they do with the synths, if they recapture them?” He heard himself ask. 

Bishop frowned, he rarely looked serious and the expression did not suit him well.

“Not sure, maybe reprogram them? Maybe they just scrap them. The big thing is they don’t want Institute technology running all around the Commonwealth, especially technology with the ability to divulge all their nasty little secrets.”

The memory of Sturges’ face, his blank expression while he was laid out on the road in Sanctuary, the way he had suddenly vanished. Was he in some dark workshop right now, being scrapped for parts? MacCready stubbed the finished ember out on the ground, swallowing hard at the thought.

~*~

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time appeared to be the reason behind the missing agents, and while Bishop seemed relieved it wasn’t due to Institute interference, the fact remained that the agents were dead, along with anyone they had been transporting.

MacCready stood with his back to Madds’ back, firing off rounds at the supermutants who were attempting to gain ground on them.

“Where the fu-ugh hell did Bishop go!?” He ground out, grunting at the impact of the rifle butting into his shoulder.

Calculated movement caught his eye, it was the tall agent, now creeping along a flipped tractor trailer, drawing his rifle, so far unfired, in an unhurried manner. He checked the safety, rubbed the weapon with his sleeve, braced it against his shoulder and waited.

One of the unnaturally olive colored creatures gave a shout, collapsing to the ground from a few well-placed shots to its misshapen head. MacCready glanced back up towards Bishop.

_Guess he’s good for something._

~*~

The return trip to Old North Church proved to be less eventful, although, MacCready having learned his lesson the first time around, stripped down to nothing but his underwear when it came time to wade back across the river, carrying the bundle of clothes and rifle above his head.

It had earned him a short laugh from Bishop.

After several joking threats of potentially needing to be “blindfolded” again, in order to enter the headquarters, Bishop had led them through the maze of tunnels and back to the main chamber. It was late when they arrived, and despite the well-lit room, the crowd of people who had been present during their earlier visit were nowhere to be seen. 

“I'm sure Dez will want to speak with you first thing in the morning,” Bishop told them quietly, leading the way to a dimly lit hall. “There are spare mattresses down the hall, you can sleep here tonight.”

Madds thanked him and walked away, heading out of sight.

Before MacCready could follow, a hand touched lightly on his arm.

“While _I_ am certainly not complaining, I cannot vouch that anyone else will be as…eager…to be kept awake by your escapades,” Bishop teased, leaning down to practically whisper in his ear. “Might want to practice being quieter.” 

Without response, he found himself briskly catching up to Madds, who was balling his coat up as a makeshift pillow on a mattress. Comebacks and actions he wished he had taken against the obnoxious Railroad agent flooded his mind as he undressed, but where they were a few seconds ago he couldn't be sure.

MacCready shrugged off his own coat, leaving it crumpled in a pile with the rest of his clothes, and quickly slipped under a threadbare blanket with the man, even going so far as to take Madds’ arm and lay it over his side, enjoying the closeness of it all.

“Just like home.” Madds murmured, nuzzling into his sweaty hair.

_Home?_

The question had nagged at him during the preceding weeks, but bruised and exhausted lying in this man’s arms, he would put it to rest.

The answer was here, with him. Because sometimes, home, could be another person.


	17. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinker Tom has plans for how to get the boys into the Institute, while Madds has plans for how best to break in their new quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, so here's an extra long chapter full of the good stuff ;)

The hideout was buzzing with activity, long before dawn, with voices echoing up and down the corridors beneath the clank and whirr of workbench's as the agents prepared for their day.

A door slammed shut in the next room, and MacCready woke suddenly to find himself alone on the mattress. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed whenever it was that Madds had slipped away, but appreciated the extra time to sleep in. The air down here was cool and damp, and he closed his eyes to relish in the familiarity of the environment. He half expected to be back in Little Lamplight, surrounded by fungi, when he opened them next.

Thinking about the Capital always brought back memories of his son. How much time had passed since he had handed over the potential cure to Daisy with hopes of it reaching Duncan in time? MacCready furrowed his brow. His mind racing to defend his actions. _I’ve been wrapped up searching for Shaun. Killing raiders. Fighting off coursers. Helping Madds hunt the Institute._ But still it bothered him. Months had crept by with no word of Duncan’s health, improved or otherwise.

_Could be a letter waiting for me back in Sanctuary right now..._

Bad news traveled fast, he could only assume that if the Prevent hadn’t worked, well he would have heard something.

They were so close to finding the Institute, with any luck, Shaun would be there and this adventure would be over with. Nevermind how ludicrous the idea of not only finding the Institute, but infiltrating them, was. Or their lack of plan to rescue Shaun once they were in.

_Soon as we get him out, I’ll be on the next caravan back to the Capital._

MacCready chewed his lip. He could see Duncan racing across the yard to him, all freckles and messy hair. He really had been away far too long, but he needed to see this through. For Madds. Allowing himself to be burdened with guilt wouldn’t help his cause.

~*~

After a mostly silent breakfast, MacCready took time to stroll around the base. He told himself it was to determine the layout, in the event a quick exit was required, not to satisfy his curiosity with the agency itself.

Synth sympathizers.

Never in a million years could he have imagined he’d wind up falling in with a lot like this. MacCready had encountered his fair share of what he would describe as ‘crazies’ in the world; there seemed to be no shortage of fanatics wandering around.

However, the Railroad was different. They were organized. This base was probably the closest thing to a functioning prewar control center he had ever seen. Large blinking modules practically took up one room entirely, while computers, and what looked like radio equipment, were scattered about the rest of the crypt.

MacCready paused in front of a blackboard, studying the scribbled names of synths and their handlers. The list detailed safe houses for the multitude of runaway’s in play.

_Synths that look human…_ he pondered, watching a group of people from of the corner of his eye. _Some mad scientist types decide to play god, craft a handful of convincing human look-a-likes, and these guys get all sentimental and start a faction over them._

The nearby operative rolled a large map out across the table, noisily smoothing the creases out.

_Abigail was as human as anyone else, and Sturges…_

“Nice duster,” Madds’ voice rumbled into his ear, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. “Can I talk you out of it?”

“Really?” MacCready turned to face him, rolling his eyes, comically.

“You’re cheesier than a box of Blamco.”

Madds chuckled, smiling in return. “Well, now that I’ve found you, Dez wants to meet with us.”

~*~

The man sitting across from MacCready rambled on about the device they had found in the courser’s head. He was thin and disheveled, sporting a flashlight strapped to the side of a pair of makeshift goggles that threatened to fall off with every excited wave of his hands.

MacCready couldn’t help but have doubts about the legitimacy of the Railroads supposed “engineer”.

“Thank you, Tom,” Desdemona quieted the talkative man. “But before we get into that further, I wanted to thank you both for assisting Bishop on that last mission.”

“No thanks required, just repaying the favor.” Madds said.

“Of course, which is why Tom is here,” Desdemona explained. “Still, Bishop spoke very highly of you both, and while I sometimes take what he tells me with a grain of salt,” she smiled curtly in the agent’s direction. “I do not feel his opinion of this matter is exaggerated.”

Madds leaned forward on his stool. “We appreciate the sentiment, but what are you getting at?”

MacCready focused his attention on the woman speaking, determined not to give Bishop the satisfaction of eye contact. Especially after his comments from the night before.

“Obviously we are keeping up our end of the deal, we have examined the chip and Tom will explain all of that in a minute, but in regards to your future relationship with the Railroad, I would like to extend you the offer to work with us.”

_This isn’t our fight._

Madds was quiet in response.

Desdemona continued. “I don’t expect you to escort synths around the Commonwealth, but you have a unique history with the Institute and we have resources and technology which could prove useful. We are in a position to help you find answers.”

“Go on.”

“What if I told you we might be able to get into the Institute?”

_“Might?”_ MacCready raised his eyebrows.

Bishop cleared his throat.

“What do you want from us in return?” Madds asked.

“We have a contact on the inside, if we can get you in, all we ask is that you make contact with him and see if he checks out,” she took a steadying breath. “Our end goal is to free the synths who are still trapped inside the Institute.”

“Sounds easy,” MacCready offered, his jaw tightening. “Not like we wanted to survive this little mission anyway.”

Madds nudged him in the ribs.

“You don’t have to give us an answer right now, take the day and think on it.” Desdemona suggested, turning the conversation back over to the man by her side.

_This is insane, we aren’t doing this._

Tinker Tom, as he went by, began to explain his findings with the chip. MacCready listened halfheartedly while the exuberant man told them about his theory regarding Coursers _“popping"_ in and out of towns, he suspected that they were using teleportation and MacCready’s description of the Sanctuary incident only reinforced this idea.

_We need to get in, get Shaun, get out, and get away from these people._

“I think the Institute’s broadcasting a signal across this radio frequency,” Tom produced a small handheld radio, filling the room with classical music when he pressed play. “We might be able to tap into it with the chip you brought.”

Madds and Tom chatted back and forth, discussing the details of crafting a teleportation device. MacCready couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Of all the ridiculous situations they had gotten themselves into thus far, this one was taking the cake. How could he be expected to take any of this seriously?

“Thanks, Tom. Let me know when you want to get started.” Madds replied, reaching across the table to shake the engineer’s hand.

The only thing that kept MacCready from slamming his fist on the table or taking Madds by the shoulders and shaking some common sense back into him, was the thought that there was absolutely no way some guy wearing a flashlight strapped to his head was about to harness the methods of teleportation.

~*~

Once the meeting concluded, Desdemona had graciously offered them more permanent quarters, an upgrade of sorts from the mattress down the hall to a cramped room with a bed; which Madds joked privately “could have been a fine utility closet” back in its prime.

MacCready appreciated the privacy, the unwanted attention from Bishop was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “You don’t honestly believe all this teleporter nonsense, do ya?” He remarked, eyeing the closed door suspiciously, it would hardly surprise him if the agent was lurking nearby.

“Maybe. I saw something like it when I was in Kellogg’s memories.” Madds shrugged out of his coat, tossing it casually over a chair. “I take it you aren’t so convinced?”

“You know what, I’m really not.”

Madds kicked off his boots, continuing to undress. “Why is that?”

“For one, their engineer looks like he might be playing with a few cards shy of a full deck.”

“I think he seems…capable,” the corner of Madds’ mouth twitched. “Regardless, we may as well see this lead through, then move forward –”

“Why are you getting undressed?” MacCready narrowed his eyes.

Madds deposited the remainder of his clothing onto the rickety seat nearby. “Going to clean up while I have the chance,” he gestured to the bucket of water behind him. “Can’t be running around smelling like super mutant ass every day.”

“Ah.”

“Might not do you any harm to scrub up a little either.”

MacCready gave a lackluster scowl. “You saying I stink?”

“Of course not, although it could provide me with an opportunity to get you dirty again.”

A flush crept up MacCready’s face. “Ah,” he said again, with a much different tone. He stripped off the road-worn clothes and approached Madds, taking a wet rag from him. “Sounds like you have this all planned out.”

“I try to be prepared.”

The water was lukewarm but refreshing, a better substitute to the murky river they had scrambled across while traveling with Bishop.

_Bishop_

“What’s that face for?”

“Huh? It’s nothing,” MacCready mumbled, scrubbing the backs of his thighs. “Just relieved it’s only the two of us again is all.”

“The two of us…” Madds trailed off. “Oh, you mean Bishop,” he gave a short laugh. “I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same way.”

MacCready clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t bother you that he's coming onto me and won’t take a hint?” He started to turn and face the other man but was stopped by a fresh rag being drawn lazily between his shoulder blades. 

“It did a little, at first.”

MacCready shrugged away the attention, turning to face Madds, meeting his eyes.

“Honestly, I think the guy’s harmless. He’d probably stop if he wasn’t getting such a rise out of you.” Madds’ ran a hand slowly up MacCready’s arm and up the side of his neck, Madds’ thumb gently brushing over the lobe of the younger man’s ear, his eyes darting down between them and back up again. “Can’t say I would be inclined to do the same.”

“Smart ass.”

Without warning, MacCready was pulled hard against Madds and kissed. Hard enough that MacCready wondered if his lips would be bruised after it was all over. His lips were forced open and Madds’ tongue flicked against his own, he could taste the ash from an earlier cigarette there. Dark stubble rasped against his face, and he groaned into Madds’ mouth when their cocks rubbed together.

He was pushed backwards until the backs of his legs met the bed and he dropped down, taking a moment to get situated, before reaching out to drag Madds to him.

MacCready took Madds’ lips, hard and wanting, and reached to grip the back of his companion’s neck. Hoping to convey the message of urgency that he felt.

Madds broke the kiss, although his lips never left the other man’s body. He pressed kisses across MacCready's chin, starting at his jaw with gentle kisses using tongue and teeth, forging a trail to his throat, where Madds pulled blood to the surface, marking MacCready’s skin.

“What’re you doing?” MacCready asked breathily, his hands winding their way into Madds’ hair.

“Giving you a hickey,” Madds responded, grinding his hips down. “They were popular when I was younger.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” MacCready hissed when Madds ground into him again. “Old man.”

“Stop yapping, _kid_.”

MacCready’s fingers moved lightly over Madds’ chest, grazing his breastbone. “Why? You don’t like my mouth?” Before MacCready could start again, Madds forced his head back, gripping at the younger man’s hair and effectively silencing him. It was a fresh reminder of his still novel role in this aspect of their relationship, and MacCready shuddered under Madds’ control.

“Let me grab this or I might forget…” Madds mumbled, leaning off the side of the bed to rummage through the contents of his overfull travel pack.

MacCready used the few seconds Madds was preoccupied to stretch languidly, the near painful throbbing from his groin serving as a distraction until a bottle of lubricant was tossed onto the bed alongside him.

_Can’t be forgetting that_.

MacCready eyed Madds’ erection, flushed and bobbing, a testament to his need. A familiar feeling spread through MacCready’s gut and he swallowed back his nerves.

_I’m definitely going to need it..._

Madds climbed back over him, and MacCready hooked a leg over Madds’ hip to pull him closer. The steady grind of their pelvises began again, before Madds’ slipped his hand between them, touching the hot skin of MacCready’s cock.

MacCready swore, arching into the calloused hand, desperate for more friction. When it didn’t come, he looked up to meet Madds’ wide eyed gaze, watching those fine cut lips to curve into a smile.

“That was a surprise.” Madds dipped down, dragging his teeth over one of MacCready’s nipples as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip of the heated flesh in hand, teasing MacCready’s leaking cock.

He was flustered, and equally shocked by his choice in language. MacCready took an uneven breath, it shouldn’t be a hard rule to stick to, but things got a little tricky when a warm hand was pumping between your legs.

_In my current...position, is it really even that big of a deal?_

“Maybe I’ll get to hear that some more before we’re through,” Madds nipped at his over sensitive flesh. “Because that was fucking amazing.”

“Please…” MacCready gasped, thrusting into the hand as best he could.

Madds’ tutted, fingers wrapping tightly around MacCready’s cock, giving him a lazy tug. “Please what?”

“Huh?” MacCready frowned, struggling to decipher Madds’ request through his lust clouded mind.

“Now – now. C’mon, Mac,” Madds sat up, resting on MacCready’s thighs. “You know what I like.”

MacCready made a noise of protest, and tried to thrust into Madds’ grip, but Madds rested his free hand on MacCready's hip, holding him still.

With a final huff, MacCready relented. “Please, boss…”

Madds groaned low in his throat, giving MacCready a few strokes.

MacCready's breath hitched, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. His abdomen tightening when a strand of precum dripped down from Madds’ impatient cock, adding to the slick coating his own.

"Madds – oh, sh--, that's f-freaking good," MacCready stammered, absorbed in the view. Madds suddenly removed his hand, repositioning himself between the younger man’s legs. MacCready whined.

"Trust me." Madds murmured, sitting back as he grabbed the bottle of lubricant, spreading some of the shiny liquid over his fingers. Madds looked painfully hard, and if the steady leak from the head of his cock were any indication, he was.

As nervous as MacCready was, he knew neither of them would last long.

_Maybe that’s not such a bad thing_ , he concluded. _Least if it’s really unpleasant, it’ll be over quickly_.

Swallowing hard, MacCready awkwardly rolled over, raising up onto his forearms, ass up in the air. He waited for a touch, or the sounds of lube being stroked onto his companion, but Madds chuckling wasn’t what he had expected.

“What on earth are you doing?”

MacCready could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he pressed his forehead to the mattress. “Just…ah…assuming the position I suppose.”

“I figured we would just follow along with the pictures from the magazine I found.”

“Well I haven’t exactly seen those pictures,” MacCready grumbled. “This is the only way I’ve seen it done.”

“Like a brahmin?” Madds teased, and MacCready stifled a yelp when a cool hand patted him on the rump.

Blushing, MacCready quickly reseated himself facing his dark-haired companion. “I’m not a damn brahmin.”

Madds smiled. “That’s obvious. I haven’t managed to get you to carry the pack yet.”

MacCready opened his mouth to tell him off, before finding himself being pushed onto his back. Two fingers pressed against his entrance, coating him with lubricant, and he shut his eyes tight when the tip of the first digit slid gently past the tight ring of flesh.

“Relax, Mac. Just hold your legs like before…yeah…like that.”

Momentarily grateful for the lock on the door, MacCready found himself once again with his knees up around his chest, almost uncomfortably exposed.

“Beautiful.” Madds crooned, resuming where he had left off.

A second finger slid inside of MacCready, scissoring and tugging at his softening opening, and he couldn’t help grimacing slightly at the sensation. But the strong fingers continued working his entrance open efficiently.

Madds kissed the back of his thigh, sliding both fingers deeper inside of MacCready, and curling them to stroke over the spot from before.

MacCready moaned, arching his back at the sensation. “There – please – ah, keep going –” he panted. His cock throbbed, swollen and neglected, and the more Madds worked his prostate, the more milky drops leaked out onto his stomach.

“Not yet.” Madds murmured, and withdrew his fingers.

A sheen of sweat coated MacCready’s body in response to the delicious torment he was enduring, and his legs had begun to tremble from the effort. He briefly wondered if he would even be able to walk later.

He sucked air through his teeth, sighing with relief when Madds instructed him to move his legs, letting them come to rest over the other man’s hips.

MacCready heard the bottle uncap, followed by the sounds of lubricant being worked over his companions’ thick cock, the wet noises and heavy breathing from Madds threatening to undo him there and then.

With a soft gasp, he felt the blunt head press urgently against his entrance, and opened his eyes to look up at Madds. The other man stared down where their bodies were beginning to meet, pupils blown and lips parted, he looked entranced.

“May I?” Madds whispered, catching MacCready off guard, those dark eyes flicking up to meet his own.

MacCready nodded, grunting in affirmation.

Then Madds was pushing in, using his hand to guide himself into MacCready’s tight heat.

MacCready tightened his jaw, exhaling loudly through his nose. He would later swear he felt every inch. He dug his fingers into the backs of his thighs, fighting against his bodies own instinct to squirm away from the intrusion.

Without warning, Madds was pulling back out. A short-lived reprieve before he was sliding back in again, pressing forward this time until he was flush against MacCready.

MacCready focused on the pulse pounding in Madds’ neck, grasping for anything to distract from the burning sensation which radiated up from between his legs.

“You’re so tight, Mac – you feel so good.”

MacCready only half heard him, his attention spent trying not to wince from the way the tight ring of muscle was stretching to accommodate Madds quickening pace. He had never felt so full.

As time went on, MacCready reached up to pull Madds down to him, curling his fingers in Madds damp hair. The sensation was still uncomfortable, but he could manage, maybe one day they would switch. Judging by Madds’ expression and the sounds he was making, being on that end of the deed seemed far more enjoyable. Then again...

Madds rolled his hips, tilting them differently than before, ramming into the sweet spot buried inside of MacCready and eliciting a groan from his kiss swollen lips.

“F – fucking hell – yes – p-please – do that again.” MacCready’s words were punctuated by short gasps, and the slapping of skin.

Madds moaned, dropping his head to nibble at the young mercenary’s throat, but he kept the angle, bringing MacCready closer to the edge with each move of his hips.

MacCready wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping himself in time with Madds’ thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The feeling was intense, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on the task at hand. The familiar pressure at last reached its peak, and with a ragged cry he came; arching from the bed as he clutched Madds’ hair.

He knew he would be sore later.

MacCready was vaguely aware of how pliant he felt beneath Madds, his body submissive and shuddering, while his companion kept up his pace. It was all he could do to cling to the man moving above him and try to steady his breathing. And then, Madds was moaning obscenely into the crook of his neck, and he felt the older man’s cock swell, throbbing and pulsing hotly within him. MacCready couldn’t help but groan at the sensation.

They stayed like that for a while, a mess of tangled limbs and heavy breathing.

MacCready traced small circles across Madds’ shoulders, shifting under the man’s weight. The muscles in his legs burned as did the muscles elsewhere, and despite the intimacy of the position, he hoped Madds would get the hint and move off of him sooner rather than later.

Seconds ticked by with no such luck.

“Think…uh…think you could get out of me now?”

Madds chuckled and lifted his head to plant a kiss at the corner of MacCready’s mouth. “Of course.”

“Thanks – ah.” MacCready grimaced, quickly lowering his legs when Madds slid out, the ache becoming more noticeable, there was no doubt he would be feeling this tomorrow.

“That was – you were amazing,” Madds croaked. “Did you like it?”

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna be walking funny for a bit, I just know it.”

Madds hummed. “Funnier than usual?”

MacCready feigned annoyance and thumped Madds' arm.

“Mac…”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

MacCready paused, letting a beat pass quietly between them. “Thank you.” He replied softly up to ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/144328945@N02/46490729531/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 


	18. Don't Blink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds needs Mac to stay behind while he uses the teleportation device created by the Railroad to infiltrate the Institute. Mac is having none of it.

“You must be joking.” The mud stained pack, which moments earlier was being extended upon request, fell from MacCready’s grip, hitting the floor with a thud.

Madds’ jaw tightened, his features taking on a firm quality that suggested there would be no negotiation of the matter.

It may have been the natural chill of the underground chamber, or the fixed set of Madds’ expression, but a shiver ran through MacCready’s body which he tried to disguise by adjusting his shoulders as if he were rubbing against an invisible wall.

For the first month, MacCready had spent his time sullenly wandering about the base, tinkering with their weapons. By the second he began reluctantly assisting the Railroad’s agents with various tasks in order to pass the time. Month three now found him standing between Madds and the door to their little room.

“We’ve already been over this,” Madds finally replied, his tone cool and collected. “They don’t know if it will have enough power for more than one person to go through.”

“Fine. Then send someone else first!”

“This discussion is over,” Madds took a step forward. “Now move.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes. “No.”

Slinging the pack on, Madds motioned for the glowering mercenary to step out of the way. “Mac, I am going whether you like it or not…I have to.” He stared down at MacCready through hardened eyes, the same eyes which only yesterday had provided an escape from the near-constant uncertainty of their lives, but now brought only the unwavering command of a cold leader calling for respect and promising consequences if challenged.

Every muscle in MacCready’s face was tense, wordlessly communicating his stance on the subject. If this were to come to blows, so be it. He braced himself. “But –”

“You would do the same thing in my position.” Madds interjected softly, placing his hand onto the younger man’s shoulder.

MacCready turned his face away, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I guess let’s go see this… contraption.”

“Let’s.”

~*~

The large faded structure sat perched on top of what may, at one time, have been a rolling hill near the far edge of town, with its metal roof rusted and, in some places, missing entirely. Back in the day the barn might have held livestock or farm equipment, but was found to be conveniently empty, that is up until three months earlier.

"This is the place.” Madds whispered as they approached the building, ever careful to move with discretion under the cover of darkness. Too much was at stake within the contents of the old barn to risk unnecessary attention.

MacCready paused, staring off into the dark fields surrounding them. There were a multitude of creatures roaming the Commonwealth that were known to be capable of seeing in the dark, but he was confident in their concealment. They weren’t the first ones to make the trip up here this night; the activity that proceeded them, he felt, would have already drawn in whatever might be lurking out here.

A final glance was thrown over his shoulder before he followed Madds inside.

The door slammed shut, plunging the corridor into darkness and forcing MacCready to skitter to a stop, as he nearly collided into the back of his companion.

_Could really use some lighting in here… ___

____

__

MacCready inched forward more cautiously, being careful not to trip. The space smelt of ozone and meta, and a faint humming vibrated in the air, almost imperceptible, he could only assume it was coming from further within.

“Glad you made it. Any trouble finding the place?” Desdemona’s voice came to them abruptly from the shadows.

MacCready started at the sound.

“None at all, seems pretty quiet out there.” Madds told her.

“Good, good. This way.”

The shadows stirred as she made her way past them, disappearing down the unlit corridor to their left. They followed wordlessly, making their way single file through the dust and cobwebs. MacCready drew some small comfort from the weight of the rifle on his back.

If MacCready had any doubts about whether or not they were actually in the right place, they evaporated the second he and Madds stepped into the main room. The supposedly abandoned barn was teeming with machinery. Dented, rusty consoles sat on every spare surface, wiring draped across tables and chair backs, from a distance they looked like jungle vines from Grognak the Barbarian.

A generator rumbled noisily nearby, serving as the only apparent source of power.

_So much for being discreet. ___

____

____

“Here she is.” Desdemona leaned casually against an oversized control panel, smiling expectantly over at them. She motioned to the bizarre device taking up space in the center of the room.

Florescent lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the crude metal beams that curved and connected to a circular platform, serving as the base. MacCready stared in wonder at the teleportation device. It looked every bit as ramshackle as he had feared.

“Is it safe?” MacCready asked, eyeing Desdemona with suspicion.

She nodded, though he didn’t trust her expression.

“Tom! This is amazing, really –” Madds shouted, beaming at the eccentric engineer who ambled into view. He clutched a grimy towel, and a snack cake.

MacCready looked pointedly over at his companion.

_They’re gonna kill him. ___

____

____

The two men clasped hands, embracing briefly in the harsh lighting. Tom directed them away, leading Madds around the corroded frame, clearly excited to show off his creation.

Left to his own devices, MacCready absentmindedly rubbed his jaw, thumbing at the fresh stubble there. The whole idea was outrageous. He paced around and around one side of the device, feeling increasingly trapped. _Why the hell hadn’t I had the nerve to fight him earlier, what’s it matter how angry he would have been? _Movement from the control panel caught his eye; a flash of auburn and yellow.__

____

____

It was Desdemona, who hurried past him to meet quietly with a pair of agents near the exit. As suddenly as they had arrived, and without explanation, the three disappeared into the next room.

For the time being, everyone in the room was preoccupied; a detail which did not escape him. A beat passed. Without wasting any time, MacCready slipped over to the metal cabinet, his eyes scanning the surface covered in blinking lights, buttons, and dials.

Laugher echoed from somewhere behind him, a quick glimpse over his shoulder confirmed he still remained unobserved. His heart pounded furiously, if he were caught Madds would be furious, but if he weren’t…it might just save the other man’s life.

MacCready studied the panel, searching desperately for something that could be used to his advantage. In the end it was a hinged plate that caught his eye; barely larger than a lighter in diameter, the two cartridges fit easily inside one of his duster’s many pockets. With a click, the plate was replaced, concealing the disappearance of the stolen components. He might not be an engineer, but he knew his way around basic electronics. Without the cards, the control panel _should _malfunction.__

____

____

“Well, whatcha think?” He asked, whirling around to lean with forced nonchalance against a railing.

Brushing a strand of black hair behind his ear, Madds turned to MacCready when he approached. “I’m impressed.”

MacCready cracked a thin smile.

“Tom says it’s ready, that we can try tonight…”

“And? What will you do?”

Madds didn’t reply, instead he fished in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a wooden solider, the one MacCready had entrusted to him so many months ago. He offered it to MacCready, who looked at the outstretched carving in mild surprise.

“I…if I don’t,” Madds stammered. “Look, I know how important this is to you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it when I go through this portal.”

_Oh Lucy… ___

____

____

The memories no longer hurt as a wound or bruise would. No, they descended now as a heavy feeling, where the world seemed to spin and his tongue felt too thick for his mouth. Time would continue to dull this ache. MacCready let out a ragged breath he never realized he had been holding, and laid his hand over Madds’, pushing the other man’s hand gently away. “It was a gift, I trust that you will keep it safe.”

“I am going tonight.”

“I know.”

At that moment Desdemona stalked back into the main room. How she had managed to cross the room so quietly he couldn’t be sure, because the crate she carried full of spare parts rattled in her arms.

The crate was unceremoniously dropped with a clatter near an old three-legged chair. “More junk, Tom.”

“Thanks, Dez. You can never have too much.”

It took effort for MacCready not to roll his eyes right out the back of his skull at the remark.

Desdemona crossed her arms, smiling wryly in their direction. “So, Madds, you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Madds murmured, straightening up to his full height and adjusting the straps of the old backpack. It was a stance which MacCready couldn’t help but appreciate. When he wasn’t making terrible dangerous decisions, he really was impressive.  
In a flurry of movement, the minuteman general was ushered up onto the platform by Desdemona, with Tom rushing to the control panel.

MacCready watched as Tom began to flip switches. While his own fingers brushed over the cartridges safely tucked away in his pocket.

_Christ, I hope this works. ___

____

____

“Just remember what we talked about!” Desdemona shouted above the loud buzzing which began to resonate throughout the room, joining in with the generator to drown them in a cacophony of noise. “Find our contact, find Patriot!” a strange blue light streaked down from a metal disc above the pair’s heads. “Good luck!” She patted him on the chest, then backed quickly away off of the platform.

~*~

“Maybe Tom will be able to get it running...” MacCready remarked.

Madds agreed far too enthusiastically for his liking as they trudged back through the dilapidated town.

Only a short time before, MacCready stood chewing his lip while Tom threw the main switches to the device, momentarily blinding them all in a flash of light that threatened to send him to his knees in pain. Then, as suddenly as it began, the room was plunged into darkness. The system had shorted out.

Confused voices called out to one another, trying to make sense of the hiccup.

MacCready knew it was only going to be a matter of time before Tom would discover the missing cards, replace them, and suggest they try again. But he hoped the distraction might afford him another chance to change Madds’ mind.

“But, even if he can’t…then we will just find another way in.”

The church loomed into view, its stone sides cast in hues of pink by a fast approaching dawn. Madds trotted up the steps, nearly losing his hat in the process.

“Tom knows what he’s doing, he said it might be ready to try again as soon as tonight.”

_That’s what I’m afraid of. _MacCready thought bitterly and followed Madds inside, towards one of the doors leading off the hall.__

____

____

“Still, this could be for the best,” MacCready sputtered, frantically wiping at an offending cobweb that now clung to his face. “I mean, what if that thing dumps you off in the middle of a lake somewhere?”

Madds held the door open for him. “Don’t be so pessimistic, Mac.”

They entered a narrow stone passageway lit only by the eerie glow from Madds’ pipboy. It sloped steeply downward and was littered with debris, some including what could be assumed were the occasional human bone. What led to the skeletal remains being tossed haphazardly about the abandoned space was anybody’s guess.

MacCready kept his eyes trained on the bobbing beam of light ahead while they carefully picked their way through the maze of passages. Left, right, straight, then right again. At last, the path leveled out and they reached the carefully concealed entrance to the Railroad’s headquarters.

After relaying the news of the failed attempt to the few surprised agents milling about at such an early hour, the men stood rubbing their eyes in the confines of the cramped little room they currently called home.

MacCready didn’t know what to do first, now that his plan of electronic sabotage had been a success. The clock was ticking.

“Might as well take a breather, in the event they get it working.” He said thoughtfully.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Madds answered with a wink. “How do a couple of beers sound?”

MacCready swiped a pouch off the nearby table, giving it a rough shake. The metal caps rattled with promise. “Honestly?” he flashed a crooked smile. “One of the better plans you’ve had in a while.”

A determined purpose to his step, MacCready wandered up and down the base, looking for one of the handful of agents he knew kept a decent stock of all things good for the soul; namely booze and drugs. Though he had never been much of a consumer of the latter.

This morning would be different, however. Mentats and hard liquor were a recipe for disaster. If he could get them into his companion, well it might be just the opportunity necessary to prove to this ridiculous operation that Madds wasn’t their man. _If he can’t be persuaded, maybe they can. Send someone else, anyone else. Why does it have to be him? They hardly know us! ___

____

____

Caps were exchanged and the desired goods received. He may have been overcharged, but that didn’t matter. This would work, it had to. With arms loaded full of drinks, and a pocket full of pills, he made his way back to their room.

“Madds, I was thinking why not –” The words fell away, lost at the scene taking place.

If familiarity could be a nightmare, then he was willing to beg to wake up. A man, clad in that same black leather getup as before, stood near the bed, his dark fingers expertly attaching a small device to Madds’ unconscious form.

As if on cue, one of the liquor bottles slipped from MacCready’s grip and shattered at his feet. The intruder’s head snapped up in his direction, his eyes shaded from view.

_What’s up with the sun glasses? _He wondered, shaking off his dumbstruck daze. _It’s dark as hell in here. _____

_____ _

_____ _

Without another thought, MacCready launched the remaining bottle across the room at the intruder. Before he even registered the glass shattering against the wall, he had unslung his rifle and loaded a round into the chamber. But it was too late, they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the outlandish delay, I won't lie...I got distracted playing Fallout 76. Something about playing as Madds living as a crazy hermit in the woods has been oddly therapeutic. If anyone here plays, and plays on PlayStation, my gamer tag is DieBecca (die as in the German "The"). 
> 
> Enjoy!


	19. Favors for a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds is gone, the Institute has to be behind the abduction. Now MacCready must ask for help in order to get him back.

The blood pounded in MacCready’s ears. His hands shook. His vision blurred, as if he were looking through a smudged lens. Shards of wine drenched glass glistened in the candlelight. He had to get help. Stumbling backwards, he turned the doorknob, took a long, slow breath, and rounded the corner.

“They’re gone,” he whimpered. “It...was the Institute. It HAD to be…”

Railroad operatives paused to watch the young mercenary rush past, falling into hushed discussion regarding the meaning behind his comments.

Desdemona looked up suddenly from the desk, sheets of yellowed paper clutched in her hand. “MacCready?” she remarked. It was clear from her face, seeing MacCready enter her room was the last thing she expected.

“The Institute was here –”

The woman's eyes widened before narrowing at an inquisitive operative peering in from the door.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m fu –,” he paused, gritting his teeth. “Freaking serious! We don’t have time, it’s Madds – they took him!” MacCready gestured back towards the hall, the feeling of dread and bile rising in his throat.

Setting her jaw, Desdemona rose hastily, knocking the chair to the floor.

Faces crowded in the narrow doorway, lured by the activity. The operatives stared in at the pair, like wild-eyed brahmin on the verge of panic.

“Spread out,” Desdemona ordered, “we have intruders in the base, potentially Institute spies, report back to me once your sweep is complete.” The operatives broke out in question, their voices rising as they scrambled to gather themselves together, looking at that moment more like the settler militia that they were than the operative roles they now played. “Go!” She shouted, slamming her fist on the desk top.

MacCready ran a trembling hand over his face, in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

“If what you say is true,” Desdemona said with some hesitation. “Then it is not safe here anymore.”

~*~

MacCready was seated behind the table, hat in hand, picking gingerly at the brim, when the Railroad Leader came in. She gave him a glance that appeared to take in his irritated appearance. Pulling himself up straight, MacCready summoned as much commanding attitude as he could.

“I need you to send me through.”

Without blinking, Desdemona pulled up a stool and sat down across from him, perching stiffly with one hand resting on the other.

“That’s impossible at the moment, Tom hasn’t determined the issue from before,” the graceful line of her mouth tightened a bit, and the deep crease at the corner grew deeper still. “And even if the machine were fixed, we would not be sending you.”

“Why is that?” MacCready narrowed his eyes. The tension in the room flitted between them, as if traveling by invisible current.

Desdemona made a dismissive motion, her chewed finger nails tapped on the wood of the tabletop. “We get one chance at this, MacCready, one chance. We simply cannot risk transporting you over just so you can go crashing through the Institute to find Madds.”

“You were going to send him before, how is this any different?” MacCready said, boldly.

“Madds could be trusted to see the mission –”

“Oh, but I can’t!?” He exclaimed.

Desdemona exhaled heavily, seemingly deciding against what she initially wanted to say, in favor of continuing her explanation.

“We don’t even know how the Institute found us or why they took him, but as far as I’m concerned the mission is compromised. Damage control and laying low are the only activities we will be putting into action for the foreseeable future.”

“Just because you have one setback doesn’t mean you…you throw in the towel!”

“One setback? Tom’s device short circuited – the Institute raided our headquarters – not only that, but they also abducted one of our agents who has intimate knowledge of how we planned to infiltrate the Institute,” Desdemona placed her hands on her thighs, bracing herself. “The only way this could get worse is if Madds spills the details.”

“All the more reason to go now!” MacCready snapped.

“MacCready, must I remind you that you are not in charge here. I call the shots, and I am telling you that no one will be going through the teleportation device at this time.”

An operative’s voice came quietly from the door way, the flame from a nearby candle flickered, lengthening the shadows in the room. Desdemona beckoned him in. The operative looked grim, standing aside his boss who remained seated at the table. They spoke in hushed tones, but MacCready could make out details of a search for alternative headquarters.

“That will do, Morocco, thank you.” Desdemona nodded curtly, and the operative retreated back out of the room.

“Well?” she turned to MacCready, questioning.

“Please,” MacCready replied, staring at her. “We can’t just let them have him.”

“As unpleasant as it may be, sacrifices must sometimes be made when we are working toward a greater good.”

“Fuck your greater good.” Pushing back the stool with a screech, MacCready stood up, looked down on Desdemona with a glare, then walked away from the table, towards the door.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she called after him with an exaggerated patience. “He was a good man.”

“He still is.” MacCready seethed, stalking out of the room.

~*~

The Railroad agent stood by an open window, his slim, straight figure silhouetted by the light. This was not the first time MacCready had found Bishop up here, looking out on the ruined city, miles of untended infrastructure protruding like skeletal teeth from the rubble.

Particles of dust floated by softly in the filtered sunlight, whooshing up in small bursts of grime, swirling around him with every step the mercenary took.

“We will have to move, you know?”

MacCready only grunted in response, kicking an empty bottle away.

“I wonder where we’ll hide next…” with a look over his shoulder, Bishop smiled faintly. “Hopefully someplace with a better view.” His voice was light and calm, disregarding the gravity of the situation. “But I don’t suppose you came all the way out here just to watch the sunset, did you?”

Looking up from the swatch of visible floorboard beneath the toe of his boot, MacCready found Bishop watching him with an intense expression. Something between curiosity and calculation.

_I can’t believe I’m doin this…_

“Bishop, I need your help.”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of Bishop’s mouth. “Oh? Well how can I be of service, kiddo?”

“Don’t play dumb, I’m sure Desdemona told you that she won’t let me go after the Institute.”

Bishop shrugged. “I may have heard something along those lines,” the agent strode towards MacCready, closing the distance with a playful amble to his step. Well over six feet tall, and lean in proportion, he cut a striking feature here in this dismal space – and he knew it. “So, what's your plan, to go find your _companion_?" his eyes glinted with mischief. “Last I heard Tom’s wacky device wasn’t even working.”

Ignoring Bishop’s stare, MacCready produced the two electronic cards from his duster. He took the other man’s hand, and pressed them into the palm.

“If we replace these, the teleporter should work.”

Silently, Bishop turned the small squared pieces of metal over, studying them with brows knitted. MacCready let his arm drop to his side, nervously waiting and wondering if asking him was even a good idea.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bishop asked at last.

“I’m certain.” _I have to._

“They’re watching you, ya know?” Bishop said aloud, seemingly more to himself than anything. “To make sure you aren’t going to go off and do something stupid...”

 _I could see how this may count as stupid._ MacCready wanted to say, but he remained still, watching the other man with dread and anticipation. _What if he says no?_ Worse still. _What if he says yes?_

“We will need a distraction, to keep them from getting nosy…" Bishop paused, taking note of the flock of crows who chose this moment to erupt from somewhere below the window, cawing and flapping upwards in mass, the edges of their dark bodies blurred by the quickly fading sunlight. "But of course I’ll help you. Anything for a _friend._ ”

The emphases on that last word was not lost on MacCready, but he didn’t have time to worry with Bishop’s sarcastic advances. His heart pounded in his chest, and he took the cards back, shoving them safely down into the pocket of his duster. “Thank you, I…you have no idea what this means to me.”

With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Bishop gave the brim of MacCready’s hat a sharp flick. “Don’t thank me just yet, let’s at least see if it works first.”

~*~

It was fully dark. The lights further down the tunnel shone weakly through the encroaching fog, as if the candles were threatening to snuff out entirely. Waiting near the doorway with a lantern in hand, MacCready mentally reviewed for the hundredth time everything that could go wrong.

_Would Bishop carry out his part of the plan? He said he would. Can I really trust him not to rat me out?_

A low bellow echoed mournfully near the mouth of the stone walls, as if in answer of his unspoken question. Joined soon by a chorus of multiple brahmin lowing dully upon entering the church.

_If only Madds could see us now..._

MacCready watched the cattle disappear, one lumpy beast at a time, down the tunnel that led to the hidden underground door, all at the skilled direction of Bishop wielding a small plank of wood.

Would he be able to force the brahmin through the corridor, single file or not? They wouldn’t know until they tried. The plan, as Bishop explained cheekily the morning prior, he and MacCready were to book-it over to the barn as fast as possible, once the half wild creatures were well on their way to wreaking havoc around the Railroad’s main base.

In theory, Desdemona didn’t matter; she would be too busy herding mutated cattle to notice them missing. But what if the noise from the generator attracted operatives? If anyone caught them together, Bishop would be punished or forced out and they would never get another chance at this. MacCready chewed at his thumb and tried to take solace in Bishop’s confidence surrounding the plan.

The most troubling concept of all, of course, was the chance that everything might work, and they still wouldn’t be successful. Replacing the missing electronic chips or not, the device might still malfunction.

It was little use telling himself that he was doing his best. He had done the only possible thing left, asked for Bishop’s help, but knowing that didn’t make waiting by the door any easier.

At last, he heard faint, confused shouting from the direction of the hidden entrance. For the briefest moment he felt guilty for the chaos they had unleashed, fortunately the feeling faded as quickly as it had come, as the approaching footsteps were almost upon him before he registered the lanky agent racing down the hall.

Bishop fled past him, laughing heartily. “Time to go!” He shouted, waving MacCready on before disappearing outside into the swirling fog.

Buildings and shops whisked by, crumbling shells with their windows and doors boarded up and any paneling long peeled away. By all rights the place was dead, if not for the activity of two young men running down the street.

“You should have seen it!” he chuckled, patting MacCready forcefully on the back when the younger man caught up. “Cardinal nearly jumped out of her skin when the first one ran into the room.”

“That’s all well and good, but you could have been seen.” MacCready hissed, taking in lungfuls of fog.

“Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. They were way too focused on the stampede through the middle of dinner.”

Human structures eventually gave way to a sparse forest, with slender leafless trees reaching up towards the sky. MacCready couldn’t picture them covered in fresh growth like he saw in the comics, to him it had always been this way.

Before long, the trees subsided, leaving them exposed at the base of a great sloping hill which urged them ever upward. “Just a little further.” MacCready mumbled, and the pair trudged forward, their step slowing due in part to the incline and also the mutated grass which despite everything that had happened still grew here, thick and tangled.

“We’re here.” Bishop announced, and the old wooden barn appeared suddenly, emerging from the mist like a mirage. MacCready dashed forward, the ground blurring beneath him now, the lantern banging against his side as he ran. Panting, he reached the door. _We made it._ His fingers reached for the handle.

Bishop caught MacCready by the elbow and pulled him away. “This is it, kiddo,” he rasped, catching his breath. “Last chance to change your mind,” the agent looked down on him, an almost anxious expression on his usually playful face. “We can still go back, Dez would never be the wiser.”

Of course, MacCready wanted to turn back, to slip back into the brahmin infested quarters, gather his things and be on his way. After all, Duncan was still waiting for him back in the Capital. _How could Madds blame me? This is a risk he never asked me to take._ No, he knew Madds would never judge him if this was the point where he drew the line, he was too good a man for that. Much in the same way he knew that Madds didn't hold anything against him for his reluctance to reciprocate those words of endearment so many nights ago. Words which had been murmured between heavy breaths, but never echoed. In response Madds had simply smiled, although his eyes betrayed a deeper disappointment.

_If I don't try...I'll regret this for the rest of my life._

“I have to do this.” MacCready spoke calmly, but it took every ounce of courage not to scream.

With a squeeze, Bishop released his arm. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and continues to read this fic. I never would have expected to have such an audience and am truly grateful for your continued interest.  
> Also, I realize this is going to start creeping away from the original storyline quite a bit moving forward, so please feel free to let me know in the comments how you feel about that, likes/dislikes, I appreciate it all.


	20. Not in Kansas Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds has been taken by the Institute, and Mac needs help to get him back. Will he find a willing participant? If so, how will he find Madds once he gets where he's going?

Visibility was poor in the barn, it didn't help that the current practice involved cutting the power when the workspace was not in use. After stumbling into a pile of wire baskets, MacCready was careful to pick his way around the multitude of dark shapes littered about the room.

It wouldn’t do to trip and break something at this point.

The lantern bobbed over pieces of equipment, sweeping this way and that before finding its target; the lone generator. “Here,” MacCready handed the light over to Bishop and crouched down next to the device. “Let’s see now, where’s the choke…”

MacCready wasted little time reacquainting himself with the valves and buttons before flipping the switch to turn the engine on. “Step back a little will ya?” He motioned with a jerk of his head.

Bishop tutted but complied.

Taking hold of the recoil cord, MacCready pulled it, listening to the sputtering engine try to gain purchase, he flinched in response and prayed the Railroad was still too overwhelmed by cattle to notice their absence.

_-pull-_

“Come on…”

_-pull-_

“You, uh want me to try it?”

_-pull-_

“No.”

_-pull-_

“You sure?”

_-pull-_

“Positive.” MacCready ground out.

With a final tug the generator rumbled to life, spewing a cloud of smoke and fumes which forced both men to turn around.

“Think there’s enough ventilation in here?!” Bishop called out from behind the crook of his arm.

MacCready fanned his hat in front of his face, coughing as he stood up. “Doesn’t matter if we get this done fast enough.”

“Good point.”

With a hum, the overhead lights blinked on one by one in succession, producing a buzzing sound which was only drowned out by the discord of machinery booting up.

Both men turned at once, watching when the final fluorescent lit up the space in the center of the room, illuminating the teleportation device that sat beneath it.

Sweat prickled at the corners of MacCready’s face, breaking out at the sight of the machine.

_Come on, Madd’s is counting on me._

Bishop walked past, nudging the young mercenary who followed him to the control panel, its lights blinking in an inanimate anticipation of what was to come.

For the second time this week, MacCready found himself standing here, albeit this time with the purpose of using the teleporter. He reached into the pocket of his duster, fingers closing around the small cartridges there. _Here’s hoping this piece of junk works._ With a click, the cards fit back in place, causing the light near a large switch to change from orange to green.

“From what I remember Tom saying, I think we press this button—then I’ll climb up on that thing,” MacCready gestured to the metal platform behind them. “And then you’ll just press this button again, got it?”

Bishop nodded his head. “Got it.”

A beat passed, with both men facing each other, and MacCready wondered if Bishop would try again to stop him, he chewed on the edge of his thumb, worried that if asked again, he might agree.

“Don’t forget,” Bishop said abruptly. “The base is going to be moved to another location, if you make it back… we won’t be below the Church anymore.”

“Has Desdemona decided where you will go?”

“We’ve floated a few ideas around but I can’t say for sure,” the agent shifted his weight, staring back at MacCready. “Listen, I have no idea how the hell you’ll get back from… wherever this thing takes you, but if anyone can pull this off, it would have to be the two of you. That said, I’ll keep an eye out for you at the Salem Safe House.”

“Salem.” MacCready repeated.

Salem Safe House. Originally the Salem Witch Museum, it had been built sometime before the war, showcasing exhibits of events from the Witch Trials of 1692. Displays featuring life size figures, antique furniture, and plaques of information at one time provided a stirring narration of the lies and intrigue surrounding the Salem Witch Hunt. Now the upper half of the facility lay in disrepair, a graveyard of mannequins in odd tattered clothing long abandoned to the elements.

A month ago, MacCready had travelled there with Madds and Bishop, while it had only been a quick supply run, he felt confident he could find his way back there if necessary.

MacCready looked up to see reluctance imprinted on Bishop’s features. “Why are you telling me this?” He demanded. Steely, penetrating eyes met his, unflinching.

“I want to see you again,” Bishop said. “I would be terribly disappointed if this were the last time.”

A familiar lump in MacCready’s throat was back, with a vengeance. He blinked. “I have to rescue Madds.” His voice sounded far-off to his own ears, and he blinked again, refocusing them under the harsh fluorescent lights. Bishop was grinning.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Bishop pressed the button on the console, setting it blinking rapidly as a result.

“Guess it’s time to go then.” MacCready replied, making sure to face away from the agent before swallowing hard.

_This is a terrible idea._

Light crackled about the top of the teleporter, bathing the area in an unusual blue glow. MacCready hesitated at the base of the platform, he wondered if this would hurt.

The machine before him whirred and hummed, the frequency growing louder with every passing second as the system revved up. MacCready climbed the steps, ducking his head instinctively at the blue current which bolted down in intervals, unable to contain a yelp when the electricity made contact with the back of his hand.

“You ready!?” Bishop shouted above the noise.

MacCready had to squint to see him through the electrically charged glow, every nerve was on edge, urging him to run, to get off of the platform and away from here.

“Yes, hit it!”

While he could no longer see Bishop, he knew the button must have been pushed due to the sudden increase in arcing current. His teeth chattered from the volume of the machine and he could sense that his hair was standing on end.

MacCready clenched his eyes shut, a pulse of energy boomed around him, sending his hands to cover his ears, the room was spinning, it felt like someone punched him in the back of the head, the air was on fire and he couldn’t breathe.

_Am I the one screaming?_

~*~

Drip, drip, drip.

The soft noise came from above him. “Where are we?” MacCready mumbled. Earlier, he had jumped up from the floor, realizing too late that his legs weren’t working properly. Nothing made sense, where was he? Four white walls, grey tile, a mop and bucket sat nearby.

MacCready rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes and clutching at his head. Everything hurt and his muscles were spasming. The last thing he could remember had something to do with Bishop and a herd of brahmin. “Maybe I got run over by cattle.” He wondered out loud, focusing on the water dripping from a faucet across the room.

The air smelled off, similar to chemicals used by settlement doctors to sterilize their equipment. MacCready shivered on the tile, he needed to try and get up again, to leave this room, but he didn’t want to yet.

 _I don’t even know what’s out there…_ He thought, feeling for the strap of his rifle.

Shaking, MacCready crawled towards the wall, and leaned against it to steady himself. _Whatever the hell I took last night, I’m swearing off of it._ Gathering himself together, he rose up onto legs seemingly made of rubber and stumbled towards the door.

The door slid open automatically, nearly sending him sprawling back into the floor. A long hallway stretched on endlessly before him, brightly lit; its design matched the sterile décor of the previous washroom.

MacCready started slowly down the corridor, begging his fogged mind to clear in order to better process the feeling of dread that threatened to consume him.

_I’m dreaming, that’s all. I took some chems last night and now I’m tripping out._

_Since when do I take chems?_

The hall lights clicked off in sequence, leaving the area MacCready had already walked through unlit. A door to his left opened with a hiss, revealing a pristine sitting room, complete with clean appliances and furniture. He had never seen anything like it, unless you counted the destroyed prewar complexes, when scrounging across the Commonwealth with Madds.

Despite the loud tap of his boots in the empty hall, MacCready had yet to see anyone, but he resisted the urge to call out. Something about this place made his stomach twist and his palms sweat.

_Maybe this is one of those Vaults._

“Vaults…” He found himself whimpering.

_Vaults. Madds. Madds! The Institute took him…the Institute. Bishop, the teleporter, oh…oh fu-._

MacCready’s train of thought, and legs, halted in place. A plexiglass wall separated the mercenary from a brown-skinned child. Green eyes and shaggy hair, their features were painfully familiar.

_He could be his double._

“Shaun?”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he took a step backward, letting a toy bear fall from his grasp.

“It’s – its okay,” MacCready started, looking wildly about the room. “I’m with your dad, just ah – I’m gonna get you out of there.” A small chair stationed in the nearby corner was quickly utilized as a battering ram, and he felt a small sense of satisfaction when a fracture split down the length of the glass.

“Go away!”

“Don’t worry, I’m with the good guys!” The chair was heaved into the glass a second time. “You’re safe now – just – just stand back!” MacCready yelled, ramming the weakened wall again.

_One more outta do it._

“Father!” The boy cried out, relief plastered on his tear streaked face.

“Father?” MacCready started to turn, catching only the glimpse of starched uniforms before he felt the electrical current passing through him.

~*~

With a jolt, MacCready regained consciousness. His fingers flexed, feeling the soft fabric beneath him, and he sagged back into the blankets.

_Just a dream._

White ceiling, white walls.

_Oh no…no…_

The mattress creaked, dipping down from the weight of an additional body.

In a flurry of movement, MacCready tried to scramble out of the bed, paying little attention to the paper gown he now wore. Disorientation and fear pounded behind his ribs, propelling him up and out. Without warning he was pushed back and held firmly in place.

“Hey, stop – agh!”

The voice did not register, MacCready kicked and bucked, desperate to gain the upper hand. With a shout, his palm connected with the assailant’s ear, causing the other man to jerk away. MacCready took advantage of the distraction to bring his knee up, and drive it into the man’s exposed side, sending him sprawling into the sheets.

“For fucks sake! Stop kicking me, Mac!”

Madds grappled with him, straddling MacCready’s flailing legs. He hovered above him looking disheveled, out of breath, and thoroughly annoyed.

“Madds!” MacCready burst out, throwing his arms around Madds, dragging him down tightly against his chest.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Madds croaked, still gasping for breath. “How? I – did _they_ bring you here too?”

MacCready was trembling again, but this time with relief. “No, Bishop he – we used Tom’s device. I didn’t think it would work...”

Madds leaned back, brushing his thumb across the mercenary’s upper lip before wiping it on the sheets, leaving a streak of blood there. “You’re serious?”

"Dead serious. It was horrible.”

“Christ, Mac.”

“I’ll never be using it again, I can promise you that.”

“Mac…” Madds chuckled, drawing the younger man up into a sitting position. They sat there for a time, holding onto each other. A rhythmic ticking sound coming from above them on the wall, a clock, MacCready supposed, like the one Madds kept in his house back in Sanctuary.

As though noticing the younger man’s quietness, Madds touched him lightly on the arm. “What is it, Mac?”

MacCready grimaced. “It’s just, well I mean some rescuer I turned out to be.”

Madds smiled kindly and ruffled his hair. “How could I ask for –”

“– Shaun!” MacCready yelped, interrupting him. “I found Shaun.”

“Where, when did you see him?” Madds asked, eyes growing wide in excitement. “Was he alright?”

“He looked healthy, he was…he was older than I had expected.”

“Older?”

“Maybe five or – or six. I’m not great with kids ages.” MacCready added, a sheepish quality to his tone.

Madds ran a hand over his face, “five or six…” He murmured.

“He’s here, wherever _here_ is. We just need to find a way back out.”

Hearing the thud of heavy footsteps approaching down the corridor, they turned, MacCready expected to see Institute goons rush in, guns drawn. Instead the footsteps continued past, quickly fading away, their owner never pausing in stride when passing by their door. It was only after the sound ceased that he unclenched his fists, relaxing his posture.

“So far nobody’s come in here, except to bring food.” Madds said suddenly, gesturing towards the door.

MacCready’s gaze travelled around the room, taking in the clean walls, the spotless mattress, and foreign furnishings. No sheets of metal were mounted on the walls to cover up excess holes. No fungi sprouted from the corners. No dust hung in the air.

In fact, there was a complete lack of dirt, rust, and grime that had always made up those living spaces with which MacCready was familiar.

_How’s anything like this even possible?_

Unable to repress a mild shiver, MacCready rubbed at the bare skin of his thighs.

“Where’s my clothes?”

“They took them,” Madds replied. “Though I can’t say what for.”

“Did they take yours too? Or did ’ya willingly choose that getup?” MacCready asked, giving the other man a once over. He was not wearing his usual worn shirt and grubby coat, in their place a pale jumpsuit stood out against the rich hue of his skin.

Madds rolled his eyes and got up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his formfitting attire. “Well don’t you worry, they’ve left you one too.” He looked over to the solitary metal table, where a neatly folded bundle waited on its polished surface.

“What a relief.”

Rocking back, MacCready clasped his hands over his knees, noticing for the first time the disheveled condition of his paper gown. “You know,” he said softly, “that I was really sure I’d lost you back there.” He smiled, then wrinkled his nose. “Course now that I’ve said it out loud, I realize how f’ing corny it sounds.”

Madds laughed, and MacCready looked down to pick at a torn piece of the flimsy hem, his cheeks burning.

“Ah, see. I just don’t have that err flair with words that you do.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just, teasing,” Madds said, bringing his hand down to cup the younger man’s face. “I don’t think it’s corny.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

MacCready snorted, getting up from the bed to retrieve the spare suit. “Wow,” he remarked, letting it unravel to the floor. “Remind me to thank whoever’s in charge.”


	21. Strained Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full of questions and angry at their current state of captivity, Madds and MacCready finally get to meet the man in charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I laid down for a nap yesterday afternoon and then never got back up. What can I say, you hit 30 and it's all downhill from there.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, buckle in it's a long one.

The jumpsuit was tight, as expected. It fit like a second skin, clinging to every curve of his body, resulting in little being left to the imagination. The act of wrestling into the single piece of clothing had been difficult enough. Now that he was in it, MacCready wondered if, despite the zipper, it would take scissors to get him back out.

“You checked that yet?” MacCready asked, jerking his head towards a metal grate covering an air vent. A cursory search of the room provided few options, but he was reluctant to accept the possibility that there was no way out.

Madds squatted in front of the door, picking the latch with a piece of wire stripped from a now useless lamp. “Nope.”

Eyeing the screen, MacCready pulled a chair underneath it.

_I should be able to fit._

MacCready climbed onto the seat, balancing one foot on the rungs of the back, a flat section of broken bedframe gripped in his hand.

_Just gotta get these screws out and…_

“Attention,” a woman’s voice called out, nearly causing MacCready to fall. “Please, place your hands on the top of your head and move to the wall furthest from the door.”

Both men stopped what they were doing to stare up at the ceiling.

MacCready narrowed his eyes. “What was that all about –”

Footsteps thudded down the adjoining hall, quickly approaching the pair. Madds bolted away, putting distance between himself and the entrance to the room.

With barely enough time to step down, MacCready grabbed the closest thing he could use as a weapon; the metal chair.

The sound of the door sliding open was followed by the appearance of three men dressed in white jumpsuits and face masks, carrying devices MacCready had never seen before.

“Do as instructed,” said the man in front, his voice muffled by the unusual headgear. “Hands on your heads and back up to the wall.”

A baton was extended towards them, it crackled and whined, similar to Madds’ pip-boy in a radstorm.

MacCready looked to his companion, surprised to see him backing away, hands folded neatly on top of his head. His grip on the chair tightened.

The men advanced forward. “Put down the chair and move to the back of the room.”

“Mac…” Madds warned.

They had taken on far more competent looking opponents. Three against two, these weren’t bad odds, and Madds’ behavior confused him.

“Civilian, put down the –”

With a shout, MacCready flung the chair at two of the masked men and streaked forward, rushing to close the distance. He grabbed a man by the shoulder, spun him around and drug him back across the room.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Madds exclaimed.

“Getting us out of here!”

The man’s neck was locked in the crook of MacCready’s arm, tight enough to cause difficulty breathing but not so tight he risked the man passing out.

_Last thing I need is to be dragging his heavy ass all over._

“He – augh – help!”

“Let him go now and there won’t be any consequences.”

“Give us Shaun,” MacCready snarled, flexing his arm. “And let us leave, or I’ll break his goddamn neck!”

The men looked at each other, then back, their eyes wide. “We – who’s Shaun?”

“My son, where’s my son!?” Madds snatched the makeshift screwdriver off the floor, taking a step forward.

~*~

Lights flashed, and a siren screamed in the halls, effectively drowning out the choking cries of the man in MacCready’s grasp.

Down one corridor, then another, MacCready couldn’t be sure they weren’t going in circles.

“Everything looks the same!”

“What!?” Madds yelled back, rounding a corner.

“I said…”

MacCready’s words fell short as the hall opened up before them, revealing a massive room of polished glass and steel, different from anything he had ever seen before.

_How’s this even possible?_

Translucent walkways wove between the towering structures of a city enclosed entirely indoors. Bright green plants dotted the space and pools of clear water glittered under the fluorescent lighting, while one of those elevators traveled up through the center.

“C’mon, this way!”

 _Where are all the people?_ MacCready wondered, shoving their hostage down an empty staircase. Unnerved when, as suddenly as it started the alarm stopped, leaving them with silence.

Madds raced ahead, his feet pounding on the tile, moving steadily towards a hall on the far side of the room. Earlier the two men with the Institute had explained where to find Shaun, afterwards they were knocked unconscious, and MacCready’s knuckles hurt from the effort.

“P-please,” their captive coughed, slowing his gait. “I can’t – I can’t breathe.” He had told them he knew the code into the room the boy was locked in, and for his sake, MacCready hoped he wasn’t lying.

MacCready tightened his grip on the struggling man. “Get moving!”

“I have kids too, please j-just – agh!”

“Either you keep walking or I start breaking things,” MacCready growled, giving the man a push. “Fingers are an easy place to start.”

“No – no I’m going!” The man said, his feet peddling automatically as the pair hurried along.

Leaving behind the astonishing décor of the main hall, they entered another long hall of closed doors undistinguishable from the rest.

“What if I give _you_ the code?”

“Shut it!”

Madds disappeared around a corner.

“We’re almost there, y-you don’t even need me anymore!”

“That’s it!” MacCready stumbled after his companion, struggling to grab ahold of their wailing captives’ hand. “Go on an cry, I warned you.”

“Uh, Mac…”

“What?”

Their passage forward was blocked. Dressed in familiar black armor, guards stood several men deep, effectively stopping the trio in their tracks. When the man in their possession let out a fresh cry for help, MacCready stopped it with a swift jab to the kidney.

“Stop, please,” a cool but commanding voice implored, its owner stepping through the throng to face them. “Don’t injure him further.”

The man was impeccably dressed. Sweater vest and slacks peered out from beneath a blemish-free lab coat. He was tall and calm, silvery-haired, with intense green eyes and sharp, strong features. Every part of him was defined.

A door behind them slid open and MacCready yanked their hostage around, backing them steadily towards the wall.

“Now, may I ask why you attacked our people, took one of them by force, and are running about our facility?”

“Who the hell are you?” Madds ground out, ignoring the questions.

“His name is Father, and you will address him with respect!” One of the guards shouted.

MacCready snorted. “What kind of a name is that?”

“That’s your name – your title?” Madds asked, the shard of metal still clutched in his hand.

The man watched them with something resembling mild amusement that set MacCready’s nerves on edge. “Father is my unofficial title. It's what I've come to mean to the people of the Institute. Just as...as you are a parent to your son. To Shaun.”

From over the shoulder of their captive, MacCready could see Madds waver at the declaration.

_The hell’s that supposed to mean?_

Before anyone had a chance to respond, Father began again. “I understand that this is all very overwhelming, but I will ask you again, where were you going with one of our people?”

“To get Shaun back,” Madds retorted. “Just give him to us and we’ll be out of here.”

“Of course, we will gladly take you to him. First things first though, let Mr. Caville go please.”

Right on cue, the man in MacCready’s grasp began to fidget and squirm, earning himself another sharp jab to the lower back.

“You are very clearly outnumbered,” Father explained calmly. “This is not a fight you can win. You have one option and that is to surrender, it is an option I would highly recommend taking advantage of.”

The sound of a dozen guards raising their rifles resounded in the hall, followed by the metallic clink of a sliver of bedpost hitting the floor, and a loud snap somewhere to MacCready’s left.

With a scream MacCready began to convulse, slamming sideways into the wall. He was vaguely aware of shouts and commotion surrounding him. It was a pain unlike anything he had experienced up till this point, every inch of his body burned, and he fell shaking to the ground. A rhythmic clicking pulsed in time with the bees which seemed to swarm beneath his skin, and unable to resist, he felt his arms tugged roughly behind his back.

Just when MacCready thought it might never end, the feeling subsided, leaving him trembling in a puddle of drool, sweat, and tears.

“Leave him alone!” Madds cried out from across the room.

MacCready found himself being rolled onto his back while a crackling baton was scanned over the length of him. Satisfied with their findings, the guard dug a pair of barbed probes from the young man’s side, eliciting another small scream from him.

“I am sure you would appreciate an explanation for all of this,” MacCready heard over the ringing in his ears. “You want answers, and answers you shall have.”

~*~

There were several people in the room, all apparently staring at them, some in curiosity, some with an air of revulsion. MacCready’s uniform had been torn where the stun gun electrodes had pierced his side, and he hastily took stock of the damage. Looking down, he could see the curve of his waist clearly through the tear, the once unblemished outfit now stained crimson with blood.

MacCready scowled, choosing a face at random he stared boldly back at them.

With a wave of his hand, Father dismissed the crowd, including the guard who hesitantly released MacCready, turned and left.

“Please try to keep an open mind. I recognize that you are emotional, and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges. Let's start anew. I am Father. Welcome to the Institute.”

Metal curtains slid back on the wall they faced, revealing a massive window looking out over the metropolis from earlier. Hundreds of jumpsuit clad individuals bustled about, hurrying from here to there, while the elevator rose gracefully up towards a distant domed ceiling.

“Our superior technology represents the best hope for the Commonwealth. We have always been here, even before the great war, striving to better mankind and the human experience. The catastrophe of the surface…well that has merely caused us to refocus our initiatives.”

A monitor on the wall flickered to life, moving pictures danced across the screen and MacCready watched in silent wonder. Greenhouses flush with healthy produce, rooms of complex machinery, and then a still shot of six individuals.

Madds cleared his throat. “Excuse me _Father_ , this is all very impressive but what does it have to do with me or my son?”

Disregarding the interruption, the elder man continued. “By that time, the year was 2227, the Institute had made great strides in synth production. But it was never enough. Scientific curiosity, and the goal of perfection, drove them ever onward. What they wanted was...the perfect machine. So, they followed the best example thus far - the human being. Walking, talking, fully articulate. Capable of anything.”

The unknown individuals stared back at them from the monitor, wide smiles plastered on their faces. MacCready shifted uneasily, their expressions felt hollow.

“I was chosen as a child, to aid in this endeavor and the program was ultimately a success; my DNA was fused with a modified virus to create the organic material from which our new synths are made. In a sense, our newest synths are all my offspring. And so, they call me Father. I am now the acting Director. I have spent decades working to reach this point. It is a responsibility I take very seriously.”

The curtains snapped shut, and the monitor went dark, MacCready glanced over to Madds, he was expressionless.

“I need you to realize that this...situation...is far more complicated than you can imagine, but you have traveled very far, and suffered a great deal, to find your son. Your tenacity and dedication shall be rewarded, in time.”

“In time? How long do you expect us to wait!?” MacCready barked, only to be silenced by a sharp look from his companion.

The Director gave an overly pleasant smile, looking first from Madds to MacCready and back again.

“Shaun is here, and he is safe. However, we cannot just hand him over. The Commonwealth is a dangerous place, especially for a child.”

Madds folded his arms in response. “That still doesn’t explain why you took him in the first place, or why you killed _her_.”

“I believe that’s enough for now,” with a hiss the door behind them slid open, and the guards were back, taking both men by the arm and tugging them away. “We will talk further tomorrow, in the meantime please, take advantage of our accommodations.”

~*~

“All I’m saying is they’re hiding something.”

Madds paced the room restlessly.

“I mean, he uh that Father guy, he sure isn’t in any hurry to tell us why they took you, took Shaun, and took out…” MacCready trailed off, wincing at his poor choice of words.

Thump.

MacCready jerked in the direction of the noise; Madds leaned into the locked door, fists balled against the smooth metal above his head.

“Mac…”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just,” Madds sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

With a nod, MacCready turned back to examining the punctures in his side. Fresh uniforms were waiting for them in the little room when they had been brought back, along with pouches containing an edible food paste that made him wish for cram.

“Does that hurt?”

Looking up, Madds was there, intimately close, helping ease the jumpsuit down his torso. MacCready huffed in response.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

There was lighthearted mumbling from Madds, and then he bent down to kiss the mercenary. It felt as though it were meant to be a brief albeit comforting touching of the lips, but his mouth was soft and warm and MacCready moved instinctively into him. The clock ticked, and people chatted outside in the hall, but he was only vaguely aware of those sounds outside the appreciative hum from his companion, and the enfolding solidness.

They drew apart, both a little calmer now, and smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re here…” Madds told him.

“Me too.”

Taking his arm, Madds lead him towards a small adjoining room. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up? That way it doesn’t get infected.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Madds chuckled, giving MacCready a wink that sent heat directly to his groin, and he wondered how these Institute folks even managed to function in public wearing clothes this tight.

A prewar bathroom, complete with shower, greeted them. With the flip of a lever, steamy water erupted from the spicket confined within a glass walled cube. Madds placed his fingers under the stream tentatively, turning the lever this way and that until he was content.

“Hop on in, minus the suit of course.”

“Obviously.”

The uniform was quickly wriggled out of and left in a pile on the floor. The water was warm, practically hot, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. MacCready grit his teeth and tensed when the torrent sprayed over his injured side, washing away the dried blood, leaving behind angry bruised flesh.

“Fucking tasers.” Madds muttered climbing in, his hair quickly matting down to frame his face.

MacCready swallowed hard. “Agreed.”

Warm water soothed the ache that clawed at MacCready’s limbs, and he tilted his head back under the cascade. The question of just how they were going to get Shaun and escape this place weighed heavily on his mind, but then Madds’ hands were in his hair, massaging soap there, ridding it of the knots time had caused. The older man smoothed the lather over his body, caressing his neck like kisses.

“Watch my side…” MacCready murmured when Madds’ fingers skirted around the painful marks. He could feel the sturdy presence of the other man against his back and didn’t need to look to tell that Madds was as affected by the closeness as he was. An idea crept into his head and he was relieved to be facing in the opposite direction, as he was unsure he could explain why his face was so red without fumbling like a teenager.

The remainder of their time spent in the shower continued much in the same way, washing interspersed with soft touches and whispered promises. While toweling off had been a hurried affair ending with Madds melding their mouths together and urging MacCready towards the bedroom. Not that he needed any coaxing; he went willingly.

Feeling the heat of Madds’ body pressed against him, their mouths moving together hungrily, tongues stroking each other almost shyly, Madds’ light touches wandering across his hip before moving on to touch his chest, all led to his decision.

Madds collapsed on the bed as soon they reached it, pulling MacCready down on top of him to press their mouths together again, eagerly thrusting his tongue back into the younger man’s mouth. MacCready’s hands moved on their own accord, tracing along Madds’ neck, drawing out a shiver when he brushed long strands of black out of the way.

Eagerly, MacCready’s hand slid down the other man, his thumb brushing over a nipple, causing Madds to arch into the touch. He lingered here, savoring Madds’ reactions, satisfied by the low, gravelly sound being coaxed from his lips.

MacCready broke away from Madds’ mouth, pulling back just enough to watch his face, drinking in his reaction while his thumb moved across the nipple again, circling the bud slowly. Madds arched up, reaching to take hold of the back of MacCready’s neck, in an attempt to bring him closer once more.

“Do you…do you think they’re watching us?” MacCready blurted out, looking toward the ceiling with suspicion.

Madds leaned up to nip at MacCready’s earlobe. “I really do not give a shit right now. Let them.”

Moving out of his grasp, MacCready dipped his head down further, to kiss and lick at Madds’ neck, sucking bruises into the other’s skin. With a smirk, he ground his hips down, relishing the friction.

“Mac…” Madds breathed into his ear, drawing a soft sound from him, “you’re so eager…” The only response MacCready was capable of was a sharp exhale. His hand moved to caress Madds’ thigh, still grinding into him. “Maybe I can help you out –”

Suddenly Madds was moving beneath him, hooking his leg over MacCready’s in an attempt to flip them over.

“Stop,” without warning MacCready’s lips went back to his companions’ neck. “Let me taste you.”

“Ah – fuck Mac –” tumbled from Madds’ mouth as the kisses trailed down his body.

Drawing a nipple between his lips, MacCready flicked his tongue over it, wondering if he might come undone from the unrestrained moans coming from the man beneath him.

“You – ah – sure?”

The mercenary’s fingers slid across the hard planes of Madds’ stomach, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Of course I am, I mean, how hard can it be?”

“It’s pretty damn hard.” Madds replied huskily.

MacCready rolled his eyes, palming the thick cock bobbing between them. “Just…let me do this.”

Wasting no more time, MacCready leaned in, wrapping his fingers around the hard flesh. He pressed his tongue firmly to base of Madds’ cock, taking note of how hot the skin was, he licked somewhat clumsily up the entire length.

“Oh – oh god…”

Cutting his eyes up, MacCready groaned at the sight of the older man with a fistful of sheets. Peppering soft kisses up the side of Madds’ cock, he placed a long sucking kiss on the leaking tip, before pulling away.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” Madds furrowed his brow, leaning his head to one side. “But now you’re just teasing.”

“Me, teasing?” Emboldened by the ragged tone of the other man’s voice, MacCready bent down to wrap his lips around the head, sucking lightly, then sliding back off with a wet smack. “I would never.”

Soft moans and words of encouragement filled the room, and Madds panted seemingly unable to keep the sounds in, his fingers busying themselves in MacCready’s hair, tangling and tugging at the strands.

Saliva dripped down Madds’ length as MacCready moved his head up and down, slowly building an even rhythm. The wet sounds produced by his mouth combined with the ones exiting Madds’ made him flush, there was something lewd about the act, but he found himself enjoying it.

“M – Mac…agh I’m gonna –” Madds’ voice came out in a low whine.

MacCready hadn’t thought this part through, really.

Pull off or keep going? For a split second, he considered asking Madds which he would prefer, but he suspected now might not be the time for that. Readjusting his position, MacCready let his free hand slip between his own legs to ease the almost painful hardness there.

With a ragged groan, Madds bucked his hips. _Keep going it is._ While a surge of hot liquid pulsed into MacCready’s mouth, not altogether unpleasant, he swallowed the bitter solution reflexively. When Madds, oversensitive and panting, finally stopped him, MacCready let the softening member slip from his mouth.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, and with a short gasp MacCready quickly added to the mess on the sheets.

They stayed like that for a while, both breathing heavily, clinging to each other even though it had gotten hot and they were covered with sweat. MacCready curled into Madds. He never expected things would end up the way they had, never in his life could he have imagined it.

"Listen,” Madds said, abruptly breaking the silence. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate it, and that’s okay, you don’t have to,” he rambled, pulling MacCready closer. “Hell, you went through some serious shit to find me, and well – just know that tells me more than you could ever say.”

A long and remarkably awkward silence settled over the room, remarkable considering what they had been up to only minutes earlier.

“I love you too.” MacCready responded at last.


	22. Playing God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madds & Mac are summoned to the Medical Bay for examination, but Mac isn't feeling it. A bit of exploration leads to disturbing revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy the chapter, we don't see too much of Madds, but he will be back in the next one.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who continues to read this fic, those who reread it, plus all new subscribers. I appreciate each and every one of you! <3
> 
> Also, a special thanks to **redhedlvr** for pushing my cranky old behind to get this chapter cranked out. I really do need the extra push sometimes :P
> 
> **Note: AO3 is having some issues registering my italics in some flashbacks and dialog, I apologize for any confusion this may cause while reading and I will try tomorrow to fix it. Thanks!

“Was that the door?” Madds rumbled, his breath hot in the crook of MacCready’s neck.

The sharp thud came once more, jarring both men from the fog of sleep, and with a hiss light spilled into their room.

“Rise and shine, boys…”

MacCready fumbled with the sheets and stumbled out of bed, staring down the guards in the doorway.

Two men looked back with something resembling boredom. Dressed in all white uniforms like everyone else so far, the only distinguishing feature between them were the one man’s bright blue eyes.

“What the hell do you want?” MacCready snapped, making no attempt to cover himself.

“Seems that you missed your earlier appointment with the medical bay,” Blue-eyes said, and MacCready scowled at the way he said ‘missed’. “Just cooperate this time, okay?”

The lingering pain in MacCready’s side was an unpleasant reminder of what events he was referring to, more than one of which he wished he could repay in kind.

“This doesn’t have to hurt –”

“Do we have the option of wearing clothes,” Madds interrupted, his tone pleasant but measured. “Or will we be going as is?”

The guards looked between themselves and shrugged, motioning for them to proceed.

“Appreciate it fellas.” Madds responded, climbing unashamedly off the bed and going to pick his uniform up from the floor.

Following his companion’s lead, MacCready dressed quickly, eager to put some sort of barrier between himself and these people, this place. Even if it was only the paper thin material of a jumpsuit.

“Time to go.” Blue-eyes said, and crossed the room without hesitation. As far as MacCready could tell, he wasn’t carrying any weapons, but MacCready made note of the way the other guard’s hand went to rest on his belt.

Before he had time to protest, Blue-eyes was next time him, taking hold of his elbow and shoving him towards the door. Apparently, they had decided only he was in need of extra guidance, as a look over his shoulder confirmed Madds was walking unassisted behind them.

Slowly, they made their way through the empty halls from before, unmarked corridors and white walls passed them by, blending together into a bland directionless mess that MacCready felt confident he would be unable to navigate without a map.

_We need to get out of here… _he worried, chewing his lip.__

____

____

The pair had spent the previous evening wrapped together beneath sweat drenched sheets, deep in whispered conversation surrounding plans of rescue and escape. _“But why’d they take you to begin with…there must be some reason, some motive, it doesn’t make any sense.” _MacCready had mumbled into Madds’ collarbone. The line of inquiry was brushed aside, for more pressing concerns of getting to Shaun and the Railroad’s contact, Patriot.__

____

____

Despite this, the question of _why _continued to nag at him. What little MacCready knew for certain about the Institute, or rather what he thought he knew for certain about the Institute, was they did nothing without reason.__

____

____

Blue-eyes suddenly stopped in front of a large door, unlike the others this one did not open automatically, instead he typed a series of numbers into a keypad on the wall. Some kind of code which MacCready replayed in his head.

The door gave way.

Machinery beeped and whirred, and the smell of spirits wafted out stinging MacCready’s nose; he wavered under the grip of his guard, hesitant to move forward into the room. As long as he could remember, doctors had made him uneasy, perhaps it was because he never relied on others to patch himself up, or maybe it was the weird instruments they used, hell he could even chalk it up to the signature white coats put him off. Regardless, the idea of entrusting his health in a stranger’s hands, it didn’t sit well with him.

Blue-eyes’ grip was tight, likely prepared for MacCready to try and bolt. Once the four men crossed the threshold, the door slid shut behind them and a robotic voice announced via an overhead speaker ‘locking mechanism engaged.’

“Just a little further now.” Blue-eyes assured him and forced MacCready to keep going.

Chrome equipment glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights as the men passed by. MacCready could feel sweat beading across his brow. They continued forward, walking towards a series of doors along the wall.

Whatever was waiting for them on the other side of those doors, at least he would be free of his escort, Blue-eyes’ hand was digging almost painfully into his forearm, and he seemed to purposely jab his elbow into the wounds along MacCready’s side whenever the mercenary stalled.

A woman emerged from the middle doorway, motioning for the group to proceed inside.

The room was significantly smaller than the one before it, and much more sparsely furnished. A raised examination table rested in the corner, surrounded by glass cabinets full of medical gadgetry.

“You’ll need some help with this one,” Blue-eyes told the woman who was currently studying Madds with a look of intense curiosity. “He can be…uncooperative.”

“Oh, hm?” she mumbled, tearing her gaze from MacCready’s companion. “We can always restrain him if needed, but it really won’t be necessary for you to stay –”

“Restrain!?” MacCready barked, color draining from his face.

Madds moved closer. “That really shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Go on and take this one to the next room, I need to examine him separately.”

MacCready looked quickly to Madds who was being led forcefully out of the room, then down to his newly bound wrists, nearly falling off balance when Blue-eyes moved to place restraints around his ankles.

“He’s all yours, doctor.”

“Thank you, I’ll call if I need any further assistance.”

~*~

The doctor stepped into MacCready’s field of view; her lips curved upwards in a thin smile. Oversized glasses adorned her face, she was young, and if he had to guess he would say she couldn’t be much older than himself.

“Name?” she stated, moving closer, the top of her head nearly reaching the height of his chin.

MacCready looked down, but otherwise remained silent.

“Your name, please?” The doctor raised her clipboard and pen expectantly.

He sighed. “MacCready.”

“That is your _full _name, then?”__

____

____

“R.J. MacCready.”

She scribbled the information down.

“Age?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And what is your relationship to the man in the next room?”

“Who? Madds?”

“Yes, if that is his name.”

“I mean,” MacCready began, unsure of what exactly she wanted to hear. “We aren’t related or anything like that, we’re friends.” He cringed inwardly even as the last word left his mouth, _friends _, they were certainly more than just that. “Or companions, I guess?”__

____

____

The doctor pushed her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “Romantic or platonic?”

_What the hell’s platonic mean? ___

____

____

“Romantic.”

The doctor glanced up at him, studying his face briefly, then returned to her notes. “Fascinating,” she set the clipboard aside, freeing her hands to reach for MacCready’s neck. “I need to feel your throat.”

MacCready considered lashing out, about crashing into her small frame and knocking her down or throwing his cuffed hands over her head and choking her with a calculated maneuver. But Madds wouldn’t want that, and he hadn’t forgotten the tasers.

Clenching his jaw, MacCready leaned forward, just enough to signal that she could proceed with the exam. It was unnerving, to have a stranger’s fingers groping his neck and pressing at his throat, the fact that she called herself a doctor didn’t make it any more welcome.

“So, what exactly is the purpose of all this?” He grumbled when she began shining a light into his eyes.

“Data collection. Now open your mouth, please…. you need to keep it open – yes, just like that,” more scribbling, then she was behind him, prodding his back with the end of her pen, working her way down to the base of his spine and back up again. “This will be more difficult with your hands bound, but I am going to remove your uniform now.”

“Ah,” MacCready stumbled forward at the sensation of fingertips touching the base of his neck. “Haha no, no you aren’t.”

“You are going to fall on your face if you keep that up,” the doctor quipped. “Do I need to bring the guards back or are you going to behave?”

“Listen,” MacCready growled, regaining his footing. “I’m not just some – some animal you can poke at.”

“No, you are not an animal, Mr. MacCready, you are however a very unique specimen. Until now, we’ve never had the opportunity to study a young adult male born on the surface who has spent their developmental years maturing under the present levels of radiation,” she circled back around to stand in front of him, confidently reaching down to cup him through his uniform. “It’s a wonder your kind are capable of reproduction.”

“Lady!” MacCready choked, shoving her away.

The doctor seemed unphased and mumbled to herself while she wrote. “Palpation normal…visual inspection necessary…samples…”

MacCready gave her an incredulous glare, then turned his attention towards the ties around his wrists. They didn’t appear indestructible, in fact they seemed to be made of plastic. He strained his hands, flexing this way and that, pausing only when the scratching of pen on paper ceased.

“Now then,” the doctor folded her arms across her chest, wagging the pen between her fingers. “Are you ready to cooperate?”

The corners of MacCready’s mouth twitched upwards, as though he were about to laugh but thought better of it. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no for me, _doctor _.”__

____

____

“Suit yourself.” She said, looking momentarily taken aback. Shutting the door behind her when she left.

MacCready wasted no time in tearing at the restraints in earnest. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He needed to move quickly. There was no way in hell he was just going to stand here waiting to be held down and fondled.

The exam table caught his eye, metal rods with plastic tips extended out from the base. Provided they were stable enough, the unusual looking device might work. Keeping an ear out for the reappearance of guards, MacCready slipped the ring-shaped frame between his wrists and twisted, tugging back in an attempt to weaken his bonds.

“C’mon…c’mon….” he ground out, stealing glances over at the door.

*snap*

With a jolt, the metal rod wrenched loose from the table, tossing MacCready backwards onto the tile. As luck would have it, the force had broken the plastic binding his wrists. Taking advantage of this new position, he worked to break the ties around his ankles, quickly scrambling up and over to the door once free.

Brandishing the metal rod like a club, MacCready rushed from the room, surprised to encounter nothing more than the large empty space they had marched through earlier. Now he just needed to find Madds and get back to their quarters, though he hadn’t planned much farther out than that. Currently, remaining unmolested through whatever means necessary was enough of a plan as any.

Peering into the other rooms proved fruitless, two were locked, the other empty. Although, muffled voices could be heard. MacCready pressed his ear against the cold steel door, straining to make out the words.

_“I’m surprised,” _one individual said.__

____

____

_“Alive longer than expected,” _said another.__

____

____

A third person responded with a quick unintelligible string of dialog. Though MacCready thought he heard _“in good condition,” _and _“who’s the other guy?” _ _ _______

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

It was when he recognized the doctors voice among the others that he turned and hurried in the opposite direction.

~*~

MacCready passed through the medical bay unnoticed. It seemed the majority of the department’s personnel were busy elsewhere, with the few he did see going about their business. Nobody called out to him as he rushed by, but he still found he had been holding his breath when he reached a set of double doors.

Locked.

Scanning the wall, MacCready spotted a panel like the one Blue-eyes had used to get them into this place. “Let’s see if this works…” he murmured, punching in the code.

A loud buzz came through the speaker above the panel.

“Okay…so six, five, eight, eight, two-two?”

*Buzz*

“maybe two-three.”

*Buzz*

“Two-four.”

*Beep*

A single panel slid back, granting him access to a narrow hall. Rooms branched off to either side, some were filled with futuristic computer equipment, all humming and blinking expectantly, others made him grimace in response. MacCready paused, peering in at a row of surgical tables; leather straps hung off the edge. While above that, bundles of electrodes crept down from the ceiling, like the tentacles of some horrific comic book beast.

MacCready suppressed a shudder, he shouldn’t be here, but turning back would equal handing himself over to the handsy doctor, and he couldn’t deny his curiosity with where this hallway might take him. During his short time in the Commonwealth, stories of the Institute and their atrocities were swapped freely. While only rumors and whispered warnings had begun to filter through the Capital. Looking around down here, he felt confident that many of their fears were justified.

Sharp lefts, then rights, the corridor snaked along similar to the one he and Madds’ little room was off of. In the end he was brought to a nondescript metal door. No panel this time.

The door swung open, engulfing him in a blinding white light, forcing him to squint and shield his eyes. In the distance he could make out the shape of a figure, their body seemingly suspended in midair. MacCready walked tentatively forward, blinking rapidly in an attempt to force his pupils to dilate.

With every step the scene came into focus. Yet MacCready struggled to make sense of it. Hanging from a harness in the middle of the room was a man, his flayed feet just inches from the floor. Red tubes and IV lines exited the skinless arms at various points, cascading up to connect with the mechanical crane which supported the weight of him. If not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, MacCready would have thought it was a corpse.

“Holy shit.”

A fine mist drizzled down from nozzles positioned on the ceiling. The man resembled fresh meat, hung to cure. Within seconds a greyish film was spreading across the body, thickening and transforming into an unmarked layer of skin.

The machines rumbled to life, hissing away excess pressure. The crane was lowering the man to the ground, his feet jerked instinctively upon first contact.

MacCready stared, frozen in place.

The lifeless eyes lolled about in their sockets, steadied, then focused on him.

MacCready ran.

~*~

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, quickening his pace until his steps became leaps. The passageway was a blur, the dark rooms filled with instruments of dread, the massive terminal collection powered on and eagerly waiting, all were an afterthought. MacCready’s shoes thudded heavily down the corridor, only slowing when he braced himself to crash through the door.

“How the hell did you get in here!?”

A large hand grabbed his shoulder, checking him to floor. MacCready groaned from the impact. Blue-eyes stood over him. He sounded panicked, which wasn’t good, the idea of being tasered again made him flinch.

“What did you see? Hey, are you listening!?” The guard shouted, slapping the young mercenary across the face. “Answer the fucking question, what did you see!?”

“No-nothing, I didn’t,” the image of raw flesh glistening in the mist threatened to overcome him. MacCready shuddered, absentmindedly touching his cheek. “I didn’t see anything, I was just trying to find Madds.”

The blue-eyed guard paced the narrow hall, alternating between whispered profanity and a high pitched whining sound.

MacCready sat in stunned silence. What kind of madness had he just witnessed? _“Sometimes they look more human than robot…” _A friend of his back home told him over a bowl of stew. “ _You wouldn’a think twice ‘bout taking one back home.” _MacCready could only laugh and shake his head.____

_____ _

_____ _

“Here’s the deal,” Blue-eyes said at last, wiping the sweat from his face. “You saw nothing, you hear me? Nothing!” The guard reached down, snatching MacCready up to his feet. “And if I hear otherwise," he warned. "I’ll take care of you _and _your friend.”__

____

____

Turning, MacCready met the guards stare. The metal rod unnoticed in his fist. This guy had no idea who he was messing with.


	23. Difficult Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac grows increasingly frustrated by their position. While Father offers Madds a deal.

A small crowd stared disapprovingly at the man lying face down on the floor.

MacCready groaned, he knew long before he took the first swing that he wouldn’t get away with it. Only a matter of time until they noticed he was missing. The only ‘good’ thing, was this time the guards settled for handheld devices when they caught him.

There was a knee pressed between his shoulder blades and his hands were being tied behind his back. Nearby he could hear someone going about the task of removing the bloodied metal stirrup from where it fell to the floor as he ran. He regretted nothing.

“Christ, Mac…”

Madds wasn’t visible in his line of sight at the moment, not much was except for tile and the blood from his busted lip. The knee lifted up, allowing him enough freedom to turn his face to the side and take in the commotion.

Several people milled around; mindful to not walk through the trail of red smudges which led into a nearby examination room. Blue-eyes would survive, barely. MacCready understood they were trying to be cooperative, for self-preservation purposes as well as to get Shaun back. But he had limits, and some lines shouldn’t be crossed.

_If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll learn how to walk again. Hell, maybe the Institute can grow him a new pair of legs._

MacCready thought back to the bizarre scene he had witnessed earlier and grimaced. At first, he imagined that he was having a vivid nightmare, but Blue-eyes’ punch, shockingly fast and immediately painful, had put an end to that line of thought. He also didn't think he had dreamed of being knocked upside the head by the guard standing over him; the pain of MacCready’s temple was matched only by the ache in his muscles. The after effects of being tased were fast becoming familiar.

With zero ceremony the weasel-faced guard hauled MacCready to his feet. “Father wants to see both of you,” he said curtly, giving the bonds a cursory tug. “If you decide to try anything else between here and there, I’ll beat you unconscious and drag you the rest of the way. Do you understand?”

His voice wasn’t terribly threatening, but MacCready believed him. The temptation to “try anything” was fairly subdued, in that he was currently out of ideas for what to try. There seemed to be no easily accessible way out, they still needed to get Shaun before Madds would willingly leave, plus he felt certain he had been beaten and subdued more in the past twenty-four hours than in the previous year. All in all, MacCready lacked reasonable alternatives to following along.

Madds broke away from the throng to stand between them. He placed a steadying hand on MacCready’s arm, guiding him forward.

“We’re coming.”

The guard seemed skeptical.

~*~

Soft chairs, potted plants, and bookshelves lined the hallway, all interspersed with the typical sterile looking gadgetry which seemed to be the hallmark of this organization. The series of rooms they walked through resembled a small apartment more than an office. MacCready glanced at the book covers when they walked by, all of them appeared brand new.

MacCready risked a question as they fell into single file through the narrow foyer. He hadn’t spoken a word to either Madds or the weasel-faced guard since being hastily pulled from the scene of his latest beating. Madds had been silent, too, aside from an occasional grunt of direction when MacCready lagged behind.

“Where are we?” MacCready croaked, his voice hoarse from thirst and overuse.

“Father’s private quarters,” weasel-face answered shortly.

After a quick trip through the narrow passageway, dimly lit by table lamps, they came to a fairly large room furnished with a couch, couple of chairs, and most importantly, Father. He stood before a darkened screen; his back turned towards them.

“Look at mankind,” he began without hesitation. “And you will see, despite their amazing capabilities and how they have evolved, they are a sorrowful sight. Our once cultures celebrated intelligence, promoted “smartness”, but the reality was such that for all of our seemingly magical ability, it has brought us nothing but doom.” He lifted a wrinkled hand to gesture languidly over his shoulder. A signal for the waiting guard to leave. “Slowly but surely, we killed our species, banished ourselves from the hierarchy and consequentially destroyed our planet in the process.”

The door closed quietly and Father turned to face the pair. MacCready touched his tongue to the split in his bottom lip, tasting copper.

“Think of all the thousands of species we destroyed, simply because they were not selected to receive our gift of _reasoning_.”

The screen lit up, revealing it to be a glass window which overlooked another room. In the middle sat a wavy-haired boy; he was coloring at a table, his legs swinging playfully from the chair.

“Shaun,” Madds whispered, taking a step forward. “My god…”

The child lifted his head. And for a brief moment, MacCready swore the boy had heard him through the glass, the way he stared towards them, an expression of curiosity playing on his features. Shaun turned back to the artwork at hand, scribbling fiercely over the page.

Madds crossed the room to stare transfixed in on the scene.

“Tell me, why would young Shaun be better off with you rather than here?” Father inquired. “Do you truly believe you can provide him with anything but a life of hardship and pain?”

Maybe conditions outside of the Institute weren’t all sunshine and sweet rolls, but that wasn’t a good enough reason, in MacCready’s opinion, to abduct a man’s son. Though, judging from his experience with the facility, they felt entitled to do whatever they wanted, regardless of the ramifications.

Trembling, Madds touched the window. Tracing the outline of his loss. The time he would never get back. “I’m,” his voice cracked. Looking away from the glass. “I am his father! He belongs with me, your people they –” he stopped, abruptly finding control, his face stained red from the effort.

“I need you to be patient, Madds. Although, perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” the Director said in a patronizing voice. “Think of it like a test. One which would ease our concerns about you taking Shaun away from us. And I’m sure you would like the opportunity to take him home, would you not?”

“We’ve already been patient enough, just give us the goddamn kid.” MacCready said, fists clenched against the small of his back.

The look Father gave him was so swift and so threatening, that he very nearly reeled away in response.

"Take the afternoon. I will await your decision. A simple yes or no will suffice.”

A cough from the doorway told them their escort was back; how he knew to time is arrival so perfectly was a mystery. Maybe they had secret bells which rang when they were needed, or they could read minds like Mama Murphy.

With a tug, MacCready was stepping into the foyer, sandwiched between Madds and the guard.

“In the meantime,” the Director called calmly after them. “Get control of your dog, or we will.”

~*~

There was no conversation between the men, only a general wariness in their step. Madds broke into a brisk stride as soon as they reached the hallway, pulling MacCready along by the elbow. He was too uncomfortable to talk, assuming his companion wanted to listen.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, MacCready was grateful it was Madds who was leading him back instead of weasel-face. If not for the restraints and thick silence, it would have felt that they were quickly strolling arm in arm down the hall.

MacCready had been so deep in thought that he stumbled into the back of someone without even slowing.

“Sorry…” he said sheepishly, looking back to find out who he crashed into in the first place. The man was wiping his dirty hands off on a rag, an open electrical panel showered the floor with sparks behind him. Although his hair was cropped short and he was clothed in the Institute’s bland getup, there was no mistaking him. “Sturges!”

Without waiting for a reply, MacCready wrestled free of Madds to rush up to the man, who paused what he was doing to watch them. “I-I can’t believe it! You just disappeared, there wasn’t anything I could do – I mean you fell over and were gone. I’ll be honest, I thought you might’ve been dead.” MacCready’s face flushed at the last admission, mentally kicking himself for not thinking to seek him out sooner.

“Do you remember what I promised earlier?” weasel-face threatened.

Madds’ hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing painfully. “Come on.”

“Can I help you, sir?” Sturges asked, his voice flat. Missing the signature twang.

MacCready scrunched his face. “What? No, Sturges it’s me,” he jerked his chin back at Madds. “And Madds, we’re gonna get you out of here. It’s alright, ah let me just…hey, hey goon.”

Their escort cocked his head, mouth falling open in mild surprise.

“This man, he got taken from our settlement. He doesn’t belong here, his name’s Sturges and –”

“Sir, I am afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. Please allow me to see you back to your designated quarters.”

“No need for that, B3-86,” the guard sneered. “Carry on with your task, I’ll get him where he needs to go.”

“But,” MacCready dug in his heels, searching Sturges’ face, desperate for any sign of his friend. “What have they done to you?”

“You little shit.” The guard ground out, approaching MacCready.

“Alright, alright!” he shook the Institute lacky off and allowed his companion to lead him away. “It’s like he’s been brainwashed or something.”

“That may not have even been him.”

“Come on, Madds. You saw him. You know that was him,” MacCready ranted.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Madds’ said with finality.

“That’d have to be a hell of a coincidence. These people take Sturges, we managed to find their hideout and a guy who looks just like him, I mean –”

“I'm not doing this here.”

“Please, by all means, keep talking,” weasel-face seethed. He mashed a button, allowing the door to their room to slide back. “I’d love an excuse to beat your pathetic surface-dwelling ass.”

“Your friend didn’t look so hot after he tried it, f’ing mungo.”

“Mac, get inside.” Madds’ voice was low with thinly veiled warning.

MacCready spit at the feet of their guard, pushing past Madds into the room. “Think you can get me outta these straps?”

The door closed with a hiss.

“Have you absolutely lost your mind?” Madds’ voice shattered the quiet, rumbling, almost dangerously so. He spun the young mercenary around, and grabbed his face, dragging them both down to their knees. “At this rate, you’re going to get yourself killed! Sneaking around the facility, picking fights.”

“Madds, I…”

“I wouldn’t even fucking care if this were at all planned, but it’s not. You’re just galivanting all over the Institute bludgeoning their personnel with – with, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting Shaun, meeting Patriot, and getting the hell out of here.”

This place was terrible. A living nightmare disguised as some sort of sterile paradise; full of technological advancement and human experimentation. He hadn’t even had the chance to tell Madds his whole ordeal yet. Would that change his mind - could they leave sooner? Probably not. He was too wrapped up in his “responsibility” to fulfil their side of the bargain to the Railroad. _Does it even really count since he got abducted and I used their stupid device without permission?_

Right here, kneeling before his companion, he struggled with why Madds hadn’t fought back harder. They were using him, exploiting his weakness for Shaun to get some kind of favor from them. While MacCready had fought them every step of the way. Even after they beat and tased him. There was no decision to make, Madds would agree to do whatever they wanted. MacCready was simply along for the ride.

“Understood,” he said, refusing to meet the other man’s gaze.

With an unexpected sob, Madds threw his arms around him. “We have to get him back.”

It was painful to see him like this. All MacCready could do was lean into the embrace and let the flow of tears soak through his uniform. He could feel him clenching his fists, could hear the silent screams suffocated by each successive breath. MacCready wished his hands were untied so that he could run his fingers through his hair, over and over, to provide some comfort beyond a body to cling to.

They knelt on the floor, neither urging the other to move until long after Madds had run out of tears and MacCready’s hands went numb.

*~*

MacCready wandered up and down the narrow little room, looking at everything. He pulled out one of the small drawers in a particularly old looking cabinet, but found it held nothing at all. After being summoned back to speak with Father once more, MacCready had been not so politely banned from entering the main room with Madds. Likely it was due to his past behavior and not his potential to sway his companions mind. He rubbed the red indention on his wrist.

Perhaps their escort would come back, signaling the end to the meeting taking place behind the other door. MacCready peered out into the hallway. Deserted. No sounds, either. Still, he was not naïve enough to assume that no one was nearby. It was only a matter of time before old weasel-face trotted back in, ready to herd them back to their room.

_It’s been almost an hour, what could they possibly be talking about in there?_ MacCready shook his head. Every scenario was more unnerving than the last. Until somebody came out, the only thing that was clear was he would have to wait.

“Sir?” A soft male voice from the doorway made him look up. A young man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, hung back nervously in the hall. He was dressed roughly the same as the others, except for the three blue stripes on the cuff of one sleeve. The baton at his side glinted under the bright lighting. Another guard, here to take them away.

“Your regular attendant couldn’t make it this evening,” he explained meekly.

“Fine with me,” MacCready remarked, nodding towards the other door. “Guess we’re just waiting on him now.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Madds emerged. Puffiness lingered around his bloodshot eyes, but he held himself at full height, striding confidently up to MacCready. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Our new escort.”

“They sent a kid?”

“My name’s Patrick,” the young man informed them. “But you can call me Patriot.”


	24. Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patriot has revealed himself, and it seems that Madds and Father have struck a deal. Everything is going as planned, right? MacCready isn't so sure.

The teenager straightened up, holding steadfast under a long once over from Madds that appeared intentionally scrutinizing.

“Aren’t you a little short for an Institute guard?” said Madds.

“Huh? Oh, you mean…I am not a guard. I work for the synthetic sciences department, but I collaborate closely with Father and he has asked me to meet with you to discuss your departure,” the tawny haired boy gestured for them to follow. “Please, we can go through the details when we reach your quarters.”

MacCready looked to Madds. “Departure, where are we going?”

“Father and I have reached an agreement,” Madds explained, walking alongside him. “They need assistance tracking an escaped synth, and feel it would be a good opportunity for me – for us – to prove ourselves,”

The scenario sounded uncomfortably familiar to the one the Railroad put them through in the beginning, still MacCready bit his tongue and let him continue.

“Once we get done with that, he will give Shaun over to us and we can go home.”

“So, we're leaving immediately to go…look for a synth?”

Patriot slowed his step, falling in line between them. “No, not for another few weeks at least. Currently our division is working to get a readout on the synth’s tracking software.”

He couldn’t believe Madds was discussing hunting down rogue synths for the Institute. His head was spinning at the implications of working for them in any capacity. Although, what would he do in a similar situation? If Duncan’s freedom were on the line, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get him back.

“Then we’re stuck here until you get a hit on their location. Lovely.”

Patriot swiped a keycard over the panel at their door, stepping to one side to allow the pair in first. “Not exactly.”

Their original travelling clothes were folded neatly on the bed; each pile topped with a familiar hat, respectfully. MacCready’s face lit up and he rushed over to rummage through the garments. Checking to make sure everything was there and accounted for.

“Oh, wow. I guess I figured they had thrown these out when they initially took them.” Madds said, crossing the room to inspect the overstuffed backpack sitting against the wall.

“Normally we incinerate any articles of exposed clothing when we have _guests_ from the surface,” Patriot explained.

 _Surface_. MacCready chewed his bottom lip. This was the fourth time someone had used that term. Were they underground? Maybe this place was actually built inside of one of those vaults. It would explain why nobody had been able to find their hideout.

“We wear protective suits when we venture out, to preserve the integrity of our gear from radiation. The suits are always discarded afterwards.”

“Seems wasteful.” Madds quipped, snapping the buckles back together on the old pack.

Patriot shrugged. “A necessary precaution. One that I did not take in this instance, for your sake. As a…oh crackers, what is the phrase,” the young man cocked his head almost playfully to the side. “As a token of my goodwill.”

MacCready let the tattered duster fall back onto the sheets. Giving Madds a pointed look.

“We’ve been looking for you, you know?” Madds said. “You’ve been in contact with a group of our friends. They seem to be under the impression you can help us with something.”

The teenager smiled. “No need for any vague pretense. We are not being watched; I looped the surveillance feed to your room hours ago. It wouldn’t have been possible to sneak your gear in otherwise.”

A flush spread through MacCready, heating up his skin and staining his face. _That means they were watching before_. He briefly locked eyes with the boy, convinced the corner of Patriot’s mouth seemed to quirk up in response.

“While I have been unable to get much in the way of information back to your…organization, I have managed to receive their incoming correspondence’s without arising suspicion.”

“And you’re willing to help?” Madds asked shrewdly.

“Yes. Something must be done to protect those members of society who do not have the freedom to protect themselves. I am grateful to be in a position where I can offer my assistance.”

Madds nodded. The young man is convincing enough, although MacCready wasn’t sure how much help the scrawny little scientist could really be.

“Now, I don’t have much time. I trust Father mentioned us granting you the ability to come and go as you please?”

Madds made an affirmative noise, nodding his head once more.

Patriot reached into his pocket, retrieving two thin metal bands. “These will be your way in or out,” he took Madds’ hand and clasped the band around his wrist. His stare lingering briefly on the golden ring Madds still wore. The teen hummed. “They are teleportation bracelets.”

_They’ve condensed that shed sized vortex from hell Tom created down to this?_

“You will use the touch screen here to input the coordinates of where you want to go, the Institute has been preprogrammed in already…”

MacCready stared through them, only half listening to the words Patriot was speaking. The people here were growing what appeared to be adult humans just down the hall, this _kid_ was bringing them magical travel bracelets, what else would get dropped on them? The whole experience had left him feeling drained.

“You seem confused,” Patriot said, moving to clasp the band of metal around his wrist.

"It’s all a little hard to believe,” MacCready admitted, because that seemed safer than telling him that he felt like he might be going crazy. _Maybe I already have_.

“I can imagine having all of this information and technology thrown at you would be hard to sort through,” Patriot said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “But you will get the hang of it soon enough.”

Once the bands were on, Patriot walked them both through the process of inputting coordinates and pulling up saved locations. Explaining that from previous discussions with Madds, Father requested that Sanctuary be built into the system.

“Of course, this does not necessarily mean you have to go there when you leave. If say you wish to visit our mutual friends, then you will simply plug that location in and hit ‘go’.”

MacCready stared down at the device, slowly turning his wrist this was and that. “Will we be tracked?”

“No,” Madds responded quickly, pulling him from his reverie. “This is part of the test. Technically we don’t _have_ to come back.”

“Don’t tease me with those sorts of details.” MacCready mumbled.

A shrill beeping sound emitted from the direction of the young Institute scientist. And Patriot pressed a hand to his hip, silencing some kind of device at his side. “Time’s up, I have to go,” he turned away, stopping only to falter in the entrance. “Your Pip-Boy and weapons are in the bathroom, I wanted to wait to give those back to you in the event you turned hostile again.” He glanced coyly back at MacCready before the door slid shut behind him.

~*~

The busy hum of dinner time reverberated off the old walls. The sounds of utensils scraping over plates, people talking and laughing, echoed throughout the basement level of the Salem safehouse. It hadn’t taken long for Desdemona to organize a complete evacuation of Old North Church. After Madds was abducted and MacCready disappeared under ‘suspicious’ circumstances, there wasn’t anything left to be done other than a complete relocation.

They had finished unpacking yesterday.

Without warning, a shimmering blue light erupted out of the dusty wooden ceiling, abruptly dropping two bodies onto the table below. Understandably, panic ensued.

MacCready slammed sideways into a hard surface. He couldn’t breathe. “Madds,” he choked, rolling off and dropping down onto an equally hard surface. His vision swam but the stone beneath his fingers was cool and it helped to ground him. MacCready felt like he had been falling for hours. The last thing he remembered was standing next to Madds in the damn Institute, syncing up their stupid wrist watches…were they watches?

Footsteps thundered all around him, somewhere there were voices, if only he could see properly maybe he could make sense of what was happening. MacCready’s head felt tight, his stomach doing little flips. He swallowed back saliva. “Oh shi – ” he scrambled quickly onto his hands and knees, throwing up all over the floor.

The voices buzzed louder and MacCready shivered from the sweat cooling on his face. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes as he retched, shaking off the hands which were grappling at him.

“Why…fucksake…me…hey, MacCready can you hear me?” a voice called out above him. They sounded familiar. “Are you okay? Can you move so we can clean this up?” the woman asked, her voice hovering just outside of his reach.

Slowly his vision cleared and he found himself kneeling in vomit next to a table, food and drink scattered all around; likely the result of his sudden arrival. Members of the Railroad crowded in. “Wh-” he dry heaved. “Where’s Madds?”

Desdemona sighed, wrenching the slender young man to his feet. “On the table. _Not_ throwing up all over the room.”

MacCready groaned, trying to steady his balance.

Everything was coming back to him. They had programmed the Salem safehouse into their fancy new bracelets, it was where Bishop told him to check first if he got out, next thing he new he was falling through nothingness, being pulled along at an increasing rate. All the while his stomach had felt like it might just fall out of his body.

“Get him cleaned up,” Desdemona barked, passing him over to a waiting agent, a man – his name might have been Cardinal – who shuffled him off to an empty room. The man left briefly, returning with a basin of water, an old towel, and spare clothes.

_I only just got mine back…_

By the time he finished washing up he felt nearly back to his old self, especially thankful the nausea was gone. “That was a hell of a ride,” he grumbled to himself, pulling on a pair of jeans and a too tight shirt. The metal band shimmered in the lanternlight and he made a mental note to hand it off to Tom. “See if Father was telling the truth about tracking or not.”

Judging from the general ease of the atmosphere in the main room, it appeared that order had been restored in his absence and everyone had gone back to eating. Well, almost everyone. The glowing ember of a cigarette burst to life, perched between the lips of a highly amused Bishop. He was relaxed in a fancy leather chair in the corner, one leg crossed over the other in the what seemed to be the widest man-spread he could manage.

“Look who made it back,” Bishop said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

MacCready really didn’t feel like socializing right now, but if not for Bishop he never would have made it back to Madds, the least he could do was say hello. He stalked over, collapsing into the chair next to the overly confident agent. “You got any more of those?”

Bishop chuckled, fishing a second one from the pocket of his jacket. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

A pair of individuals walked past, chatting amongst themselves. MacCready didn’t know them and sat silently, the rolled-up paper sticking out of his mouth.

“Think I could get a light?”

Bishop clicked his tongue. “Not even back an hour…” the words fell away as he swung around, pressing up into MacCready’s personal space, pinning him in with a hand on the arm of the other chair.

He didn’t have time to react, he stared wide eyed back at the agent, unable to break the contact. Watching with rapt attention while Bishop pressed their cigarettes together. The act washed over MacCready, sending heat racing up his spine. The thought of uttering ‘thank you’ came unbidden, and he bit his cheek, humiliated by the very idea of how he might sound.

The seconds it took to light the paper felt like minutes, and MacCready took a very controlled drag of delicious smoke when Bishop finally slid back into his own chair.

Sure, Madds had said before that he felt Bishop was harmless. That he was only acting the way he did because of the reaction he got from of him. Maybe that was true, but it was hard not to have a response to the things he did. MacCready wasn’t afraid of him, but damn he hated those smug looks, like the one he was wearing right now.

“Better?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” He mumbled, exhaling through his nose.

“Looks like Tom’s machine worked. I’m relieved to see you back,” Bishop shuffled in his seat, repositioning himself to allow his eyes to drag over MacCready, lingering on his chest. “Especially in one piece.”

“I’ll bet,” MacCready said curtly. “I found Madds, he’s here…somewhere.”

Bishop stretched his long legs, letting out a contented sigh. “That’s good, I’m glad,”

MacCready snorted. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Really,” Bishop replied, a surprisingly honest tone to his voice. “I like him. He’s…a lucky man. To have you – someone who would risk all of that to rescue them,” he stubbed the cigarette out on the wall behind them. “It’s kind of romantic, if you think about it.”

MacCready stared straight ahead through the smoke.

~*~

“This is amazing,” Tom exclaimed, turning the metal wristband over in his hands. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even with other Institute technology…it must be new,” the engineer practically vibrated with excitement. “To think, all the power of our device, condensed down into this tiny little bracelet…”

“Yeah, Tom that’s all really interesting, but our main concern right now is whether or not they are tracking us with these things – because if they are that’d be a big issue.” MacCready gestured around to the safehouse, hoping the scattered engineer got his point.

Madds elbowed him sharply. “Obviously we don’t want to jeopardize the Railroad or put members of the organization in danger. Do you think there’s any way to tell if these are monitoring us or not?”

_That’s literally what I just said._

Tom pursed his lips. Holding the gadget up closer to his face, flicking a magnifying eyepiece into place. “Oh yes, yes. I am sure there’s a way to tell if this is recording your position…it’ll take some time…maybe ah, give me until the morning. I’ll get right on it; you know what they say...”

A pause. No MacCready didn't know 'what they say' and judging from the silence, nobody else did either.

"Erm, well time is uh, time is of the essence." Tom said quietly.

MacCready resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Smart people sure were something else.


	25. Questionable Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes meet with Desdemona and Tom to discuss the synth rebellion, MacCready asks the hard questions. Why won't they listen to him? Maybe he is just overexaggerating after all. Only time will tell.

When MacCready woke the next morning, sunlight was only just beginning to filter through the ancient floorboards above them. Madds was plastered against his back, snoring lightly, while Railroad operatives dosed nearby, undistinguishable in the dim light. He stretched, pushing the mismatched sheets further down his bare chest, the hairs on his arms bristling under the cool air. The newly occupied base didn’t allow much in the way of privacy that the church had, but at least they had a safe place to lay their heads.

Hell, after their experience with teleportation, it was a miracle they even still had heads.

Yawning he wriggled free of Madds’ grasp and turned over, amused by the irritated sound his companion made in response. Bleary eyes squinted back at him, unfocused but still passionate. He supposed, if someone wanted to be boring and cliched, Madds’ eyes were green. The color of those uncommon patches of grass, the bright radioactive lightening which rolled in with summer storms, or maybe even a supermutants skin. Although that last one might earn him a playful smack. If someone asked him, though? He would struggle to accurately describe the eyes he adored so much. Bright, intelligent green which provided a contrast to his own sky-blue ones. Green of the sort he had seen on the healthy foliage growing in the Institute. He loved looking into them, even after all these months together, MacCready still got a rush knowing he could without consequence.

“Morning,” croaked Madds, giving the stubble on his chin a hard scratch.

“Morning,” replied MacCready, accepting a sleepy kiss.

Operatives stirred around them, stumbling off to begin their day. MacCready paid them no mind, content to spend a few extra minutes this morning pressed into Madds, pretending the events they were now caught up in were no more serious than the errands they once ran for the Minute Men.

“How’d you sleep?” mumbled Madds.

“Eh, a little sore,” MacCready said, feigning a pained expression. “Guess I’m outta practice when it comes to sleeping on the floor.”

Madds chuckled. Deep and infectious. A sound which never failed to send heat washing over him.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”

MacCready snorted. “More like old, pretty soon I’ll be in as bad a shape as you.”

Eyes wide in exaggerated disbelief, Madds reached out and tickled the younger man, rolling on top of him while MacCready screeched and squirmed, laughing helplessly as Madds’ fingers wiggled against his ribs and under his arms. “You’re such a little shit.”

“St-stop, not in front of people!” howled MacCready between bursts of laughter.

Madds finally gave in, flicking MacCready’s crooked nose before he rolled off of him. Leaving the mercenary panting and staring after him; tracing the old scar on Madds’ face with first his eyes, then his thumb.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Madds began, covering MacCready’s hand gently with his own. “and you’re right, I should have used a stimpak.”

~*~

The metal band snapped back around MacCready’s wrist with ease, it was surprisingly light and unassuming for what it was capable of. He wondered briefly what life could be like if they all had access to technology like what the Institute had.

“There’s definitely no tracking systems in place on these.” Tom explained.

Madds fumbled to clasp his bracelet. “You can say that conclusively?”

Desdemona looked to Tom for confirmation.

“Yeah, I ran it through our programs and everything checks out -”

“Does that strike anyone here as strange?” MacCready interjected.

The three paused; Desdemona arched an eyebrow.

MacCready crossed his arms. “No? C’mon, for fu-f’ing sake, Tom. You’re a scientist and Dez, you’re suspicious of everyone –”

“What are you getting at, MacCready?” Desdemona asked.

“What I’m saying is, they just let us go. The Institute. They don’t just let you go.”

Madds stepped in closer. “They didn’t _just_ let us go. We have agreed to help them – in return for Shaun.” He added quickly at the shocked look on Desdemona and Tom’s faces. “Maybe we should sit down and go over everything?”

Desdemona clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Yes, lets.”

MacCready fell in line behind his companion, chewing his lip as they made their way to a small stuffy room. He collapsed into a chair next to Madds, sending centuries old dust wafting into the air around them. A faded globe sat on the table and he couldn’t help but give it a twirl.

_Which one of these green patches is us?_

Once situated Madds begins to recount their experiences with the Institute. Meeting with Father, the heavy security, finding Shaun, the deal in place, and how Patriot fit into all of this.

MacCready actually lost track of time. He sat deep in thought regarding the feeling he had surrounding the ease with which they were allowed their freedom when Madds suddenly elbowed him in the side.

“That’s when we saw Sturges, remember?”

 _Sturges…_ “Mhmm, yeah. He uh, he didn’t remember us at all – hell he didn’t even sound like himself. More like he was just a –”

“A body,” Desdemona interrupted. “His mind was wiped, reset, back to factory settings so-to-speak.”

MacCready frowned. “It can be reversed though, right?” Despite the question, he already knew the answer. He had understood the finality of it from the moment he tried to convince Sturges that they knew each other.

“No, unfortunately,” she shook her head and looked genuinely remorseful but he didn’t care and quickly averted his eyes.

“Okay.”

The group was talking again but MacCready wasn’t listening. With everything they had learned, more importantly with everything he had seen, they should never have been allowed to leave. No way ulterior motives weren’t at play.

He could see Sturges staring back at him with that damned blank expression. _What’d they do to you, man?_ They killed him. That’s what they did. Everything that made Sturges ‘Sturges’ was gone, now he was nothing more than a shell inhabited by a stranger.

_Whoever he is now still doesn’t deserve to live as a slave for those jumpsuit wearing weirdos._

There hadn’t been much time between MacCready’s experience in the hidden medical wing and now. Still, why hadn’t he spoke up about it? Madds and the Railroad would definitely be interested in hearing about what he saw in there.

_So, I tell them and it gives Madds even more reasons to get involved in this synth rescue crap._

He decided sometimes it was better to stay quiet.

The minutes ticked by, dragging into hours. MacCready shifted uncomfortably in the cushioned seat, switching between listening intently to daydreaming about what life would be like once they finally finished this mess. The four of them could move into the house in Sanctuary, he could teach the kids to shoot, Madds would show them how to rebuild engines, maybe Sturges would…

Running a weary hand over his face he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand.

“Obviously we need to begin smuggling the weapons in now if we are to keep on schedule.”

“Noted, I am sure Patriot knows of a safe location to store them until the time comes.”

“Weapons?” MacCready asked roughly.”

“Yes, they will be necessary for –”

“I thought this was all about Shaun!?” MacCready responded, glaring at Madds.

“Mac, what the hell? Calm down.”

“No! We’ve found him, we have our orders from – from Father, after that’s finished, we’re supposed to be out!”

Madds shook his head. “We cannot just leave these people in there.”

MacCready pushed away from the table, his head spinning and pulse pounding. _It’s never what’s best for us, no its always about everyone else._ He needed to get out of this room, it was too hot, and he was suffocating under the weight of all their disappointed stares.

“Mac, where are you going?”

Without so much as a look back, he stormed out, racing past the agents who stood mingling in the common room. _Guess its lunch time_ , he thought bitterly ascending a flight of stairs. _Where am I even going? Does it matter?_

Heavy boots were pounding up after him but he gave them no mind as he entered the first floor of the museum, purposefully knocking over a mannequin when he marched by.

“Robert, goddamnit! Listen to me!”

With a snarl he whirled around, just in time to find himself grappling with Madds. The pair struggled. Madds’ eyes flashed dangerously; his face framed by messy locks. In the end MacCready was pinned against the wall, Madds’ body pressed flush against him after he tried to knee the older man in the groin.

“You’re insane,” MacCready ground out, trying desperately to hide the hitch in his voice. “This is suicide! Do you understand me? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“We can't ignore this; someone has to do something.”

“Fine, but why does it have to be you? You’re allowed to live your own life!” His throat was burning. “Just – just because you couldn’t save HER doesn’t mean you have to be the one to save them!”

Madds looked stunned, those green eyes shimmering with moisture.

“I didn’t – I mean…” he fumbled to make it better, but the words fell off his tongue and he swallowed hard, turning his gaze away from the tears now slipping down the other man’s face. That was a low blow, even for him.

“I’m sorry –”

“No, you don’t have to -” Madds broke off, taking a shuddering breath. “You’re right. But it doesn’t change how I feel about this,” he stepped back from MacCready, scrubbing at his eyes. “I realize this is way more than anything you signed up for, I understand if it’s too much.”

“What are you saying?”

“I just want you to know that I will not hold it against you if you stay behind for this part,” Madds whispered, and MacCready met his glassy stare. “It won’t change how I feel about you.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes and huffed. “If you really think you can get rid of me this easily, then you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Mac,” Madds said gently. “You know that’s the last thing I want.”

What else was there to say? He had only just gotten Madds back, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him again, there was no way he could let him try to take on this insane mission alone.

“I guess we’re doing this then?” MacCready muttered, letting his head drop back against the wall.

Madds leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “If you’re with me, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

“Oh my god, you’re so damn corny.”

“That’s how lovers talk to one another, Mac.”

He scoffed. “Guess I need to step up my romantic game, hm? Let’s see…you’re my sun and moon,” he chuckled weakly. “Ridiculous.”

“I think it’s beautiful, I love it. I love you.”

~*~

The fluorescent lights were dimmed and the machine next to Father’s chair whirred quietly when he pressed the mask to his face, and inhaled deeply.

It had been several days since MacCready’s outburst during the briefing with the Railroad. Afterwards they had resumed the initial planning phase for what MacCready would describe as a “suicide mission with ambition” and how their test of loyalty with the institute needed to be carried out, if they were to put the facility at ease.

Now after returning to the Institute, they found themselves standing alone with Father once more, only MacCready had never seen him struggling to breath before. He wondered if something had changed in the short time they had been gone.

The whirring slowed to a stop and Father rested the mask in his lap. “I am sure you must be curious why I have asked you to stop by, but I wanted to ensure you are still prepared to actively assist us with the synth reclamation? I have received word from out Synthetic Sciences department that they are close to having a lock on the assets location.”

“Yes, we have discussed the task and appreciate the opportunity to prove ourselves.”

_Speak for yourself…_

“That’s promising to hear. As we discussed before, you are welcome to explore and enjoy the Institute until the final preparations are made. Obviously, your quarters remain as you left them.”

They had stopped there first, to tuck their weapons away and change back into the too-tight uniforms from before. MacCready had to remind himself not to pull at the front and readjust himself here in front of the Institute’s Director.

“Thank you for the hospitality.” Madds responded.

Father turned his gaze towards MacCready, eyeing him with something resembling wicked amusement. “Of course, thank you for gracing us with your presence, again. I will admit not being entirely confident you would return,” he lifted the mask once more, suddenly appearing like nothing more than a frail old man, sick and entering that final stretch. “If you require anything further, please see Patrick – I believe you met him during your previous visit.”

With that they took their leave, quickly exiting back through the sparsely decorated chambers. MacCready was happy to be out of there, that guy gave him the creeps. Who would want an entire city full of people to call them “Father”?

To say finding Patriot waiting next to the door to their little room was a coincidence would be an understatement, although he had likely been notified by someone that they had come back.

Madds ushered the teen through the sliding door and MacCready took up a position near the cabinet which held their guns. Old habits.

They spoke hurriedly, catching him up to speed with the Railroad’s plans. As expected, the kid had a secluded location which he felt would be perfect for hiding bulk weapons, until they were ready. Now all they had to do was come and go periodically, bringing back extra firepower with each visit. Easy enough, right?

_What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, that’s right, death, probably some torture, might even wind up like Sturges._

“You have no idea how relieved I am to have you on our side,” Patriot gushed. “There are worse things occurring here than synth slavery,” he looked quickly to MacCready and back to Madds. “I suggest you visit the bio lab, meet with the officers there, I have a feeling it may be of some interest to you.”

_Bio lab?_

“Where is that located?” Madds asked.

“There is an office, in the back of the medical wing. Near an authorized access door.”

The image of those lidless eyes staring into his made MacCready shudder. He knew exactly which door the young scientist was talking about.


End file.
